OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG
by monkeymouse
Summary: From witch-child to Ravenclaw Seeker--the focus shifts to Cho Chang, her life and loves
1. Impudent Child

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
1. Impertinent Child  
  
Long before she got to Hogwarts, Cho Chang had two great loves: to read and to fly.  
  
She took to reading at an early age and was seldom far from a book when she was growing up. This pleased her parents, although some of her choices of reading matter did not. When she was eight, she happened to pick up one of the racier romance novels of Adelaide Sump McTwiddy, and made the mistake of asking her mother (whose book it was, after all) the meaning of the phrase "his throbbing manhood". They kept a closer eye on her books after that.  
  
There was one book, though, that Cho kept hidden from them. She even pored through her father's library, found a special disguising spell and learned to use it to keep this book hidden. She did all this because both her parents had made it known that they didn't mind watching Quidditch, but "it would be a disgrace to the ancestors if a Chang ever stooped to playing Quidditch for a living".  
  
But this was exactly what Cho wanted to do. And it was all the fault of the book that she knew, even at age ten, to keep hidden from her parents: "The Broom Gets All The Credit: The Autobiography of Eunice Murray".  
  
Murray was one of the best Seekers of the century, and one of the few witch Seekers in a sport still dominated by wizards. In her memoirs, published just a few years before her death in 1942, Murray recalled everything: the struggle of the early years, the grudging recognition of her talent, giving way to respect at long last. Night after night, after her parents thought she had gone to sleep, Cho would read Murray's book by wandlight, thrilling again and again to descriptions of rushing through the air in all weathers, hurtling toward a certain crash into the stands, dodging Bludgers (and occasionally worse) and finally feeling the Golden Snitch vibrating in the hand like a wounded bird. Cho never tired of the book; she read it over and over, as if it held the answer to the big questions of her life-- questions so big she couldn't even put them into words yet.  
  
She knew about Quidditch practically from birth; almost everyone in the wizarding world did. When she was seven, she went with her parents to watch the final game of the World Quidditch Cup, which was held that year in Gibraltar, and that settled everything for her. She wanted to learn to fly; she HAD to learn to fly, AT ONCE. Her parents gave her a small training broom, thinking it couldn't go too far or too fast. She needed to learn flying eventually anyway, and maybe letting her try to handle this child-size broom (it was a "Bruno the Birdman", named after a popular character in wizard children's books) would let Cho get "it" out of her system.  
  
They were wrong.  
  
She learned to fly at home; in the combination two-flat and apothecary her parents ran at the far end of Diagon Alley. While they were tending the store, Cho would be tormenting the family cat (who her father, in a rare fit of whimsy, had christened "Chairman Miao") by chasing it around the parlor, up the stairs, in and out of bedrooms, down the backstairs, through the kitchen and out back to the dustbins. The cat was fast enough to make Cho learn speed, and the apartment was just cluttered enough to make Cho learn control.  
  
She also learned one other thing, before she'd even heard of Murray's book: that the broom may indeed get all of the credit, but that a broom is only as fast and as flexible as its rider. She was able to push her Bruno Broom to fly far faster and handle much subtler than it was ever meant to do. By the time Cho got her Hogwarts letter, her flying was nothing short of brilliant.  
  
And this bothered her parents.  
  
Her father had taken a second name to do business with in Diagon Alley; to most wizards there he was James Arthur Chang. But with his family, and with the few other Chinese wizards in or near London, he was Chang Xiemin. The evening the Hogwarts letter arrived, he called for a family meeting. Cho could hardly contain herself, she was so thrilled at the prospect, but it was as if her father was deliberately trying to throw cold water on her hopes.  
  
"I've checked their rules, and they just don't allow the First Years to be on the house Quidditch teams. That's damned sensible, I think. You'll have enough to do with your studies. You're not going there to play at sports, after all."  
  
The question was out of her mouth before she realized it: "Then what am I going there for? I can learn witchcraft anywhere."  
  
"Don't be impertinent," her mother said, although she'd said the phrase so many times to Cho that it was becoming automatic. "Hogwarts is the finest school of witchcraft on this forsaken island. You think we want you to just learn how to run the shoppe? You could stay home for that, but I can promise you that you'd never see the outside of the shoppe. At Hogwarts you can learn many things, meet some of these gwailo, and build a successful life when you grow up. And you'll be guided and protected by good teachers."  
  
"Fine, then; I'll play in my second year."  
  
"If you do, there won't be a third year!" her father thundered. "We're not sending you off to be a Quidditch player; there's no future in it!"  
  
"But there are lots of witches who play for a living."  
  
"And look at them!" her mother hotly joined in again. "Look at the Daily Prophet and see how many of them get married one month, then divorced the next. They get hit in the head so often that they can't think straight. And then there are those, those freaks!"  
  
"What's that supposed to mean, mummy?"  
  
"Never you mind! You'll find out when you're older."  
  
Actually, Cho had already found out. Eunice Murray's memoirs weren't as frank as some of the programs on the World Wizarding Network, but the book was dedicated to Murray's "best friend and closest companion" without mentioning a name. She got the impression--confirmed by giggling friends in the schoolyard--that Murray, indeed any woman who played Quidditch, was probably part of that "other tribe" of girls who like girls. Cho couldn't really imagine it--she couldn't even imagine liking boys yet, let alone other girls--so she simply let it slide. But she wasn't about to discuss such things with her mother. Give her one more excuse to come down hard on Cho.  
  
Cho's relationship with her mother was, at best, mixed. The woman who translated her own name to Lotus when she came to England refused to give her daughter a translated name, or even an Anglo name: "Wendy Chang! Nell Chang! Imagine!" Maybe Cho's mother had really loved China and hated to come to England; she never had anything good to say about it, or about the gwailo who lived all around them. But she wouldn't speak of such things, either, especially to her daughter.  
  
Maybe it was all my fault, Cho thought. Maybe it all started with the braids. The night before her first day at grade school, her mother had gone to the trouble of plaiting Cho's hair into two braids that hung off the sides of her head, just behind her ears. After it was done, Cho looked in the mirror at herself, and immediately decided what to do. As soon as her mother dropped her off at school and left, Cho asked permission to go to the loo. There, she undid the braids.  
  
Of course, her mother couldn't scold her in public when she picked Cho up at the end of that first day. And she knew her father would support her decision; he thought Cho's braids made her look, as he put it, "as if she was fresh off the Portkey." She had no idea what that meant, but she could tell that he thought she looked stupid. After that, Cho's mother didn't bother with the braids, and told her daughter, "You can get yourself ready, you know so much about it. Then we'll see who looks the fool."  
  
But Cho had already been taught to brush out her long black never-cut-once hair every night before bed. She thought it was her best feature, and made her look like a princess. And she was right, even though her mother would rather be eaten by a dragon than admit it.  
  
In the end, Cho told her parents that she wouldn't go out for the Quidditch team--neither her parents nor the school would let her, anyway, so she felt nothing was lost.  
  
But when she went to King's Cross on September 1, to begin the voyage to Hogwarts, it was with a large trunk of clothes and books (including Murray's autobiography hidden among her underwear), a newly-bought horned owl she'd named Quan Yin (after the Goddess of Compassion), a new set of robes, a new wand (eleven inches, willow, with the hair of a unicorn inside) and a fierce desire to fly as soon as she got the chance.  
  
to be continued 


	2. Where You Ought To Be

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
2. Where You Ought To Be  
  
She sat in her compartment with a group of "mixed" older girls; some were from Hufflepuff, some from Ravenclaw, but all of them knew the Chang shoppe in Diagon Alley, and felt that they could speak freely with Cho. Cho didn't know any of these girls, but politely kept the conversation going, and, as is the way of such things, they had become fast friends by the time the trip was half over.  
  
"I wish it was next year already," Cho said as she bit the head off of a Chocolate Frog (crunchy style). "Whatever House I'm in, I want to try for Quidditch."  
  
"A waste of time," one girl said without ever looking up from the Spells book she'd been reading for the past two hours. Obviously a Ravenclaw.  
  
"Thank you, Madam Trelawney," said Penny Clearwater, a Third-Year Ravenclaw. "Are you trying to put Cho off with your doom and gloom?"  
  
"Just being realistic; Slytherin's on a roll, and they'll sweep again. More's the pity."  
  
Something about the way she said "Slytherin" made Cho decide she didn't want to be in that house, even if they offered her Captain. "What's so wrong about Slytherin?"  
  
"In two words, Marcus Flint." The girl finally closed her Spells book. "By the way, I'm Amanda; Amanda Lightfoot, Fifth-Year Ravenclaw. Lightfoot by name but not by nature; can't fly worth a damn." But she smiled as she said it. "Flint's the Captain of the Slytherin team, and as a Chaser he's an absolute terror. Thinks nothing of beating on the opposition. An elbow in the eye, a foot in the ribs; it's all one to him. And the rest of the team follows along behind, even their Seeker, Terence Higgs."  
  
"But they can't do that! That's not how it's supposed to be!"  
  
"Once the game gets rolling, the refs can't see everything. They don't get away with it all, but just enough to make the difference."  
  
"Well, I don't care; I won't let them get to me! I won't let anyone treat me like that when I'm Seeker!"  
  
"WHEN you're Seeker? Pretty sure of yourself."  
  
"I can afford to be sure of myself; I'm good."  
  
"Hooch will be the judge of that," Penny said.  
  
"Hooch?"  
  
"Madam Hooch, the flying instructor and head Quidditch referee. Even if a House picks you in your second year, she's got to clear you."  
  
"But why can't the First-Years play?"  
  
"Oh, they used to," Penny said, "but that was about a hundred years ago. Good luck getting them to change it now."  
  
Just then, the train started to slow down; they could see they were getting to the village of Hogsmeade, near Hogwarts Academy.  
  
Cho grabbed her bags, but Penny stopped her. "They've got elves to take it all over, including your owl. Leave it here and enjoy the ride. Maybe I'll see you inside."  
  
At first, Cho wasn't sure what Penny meant by "enjoy the ride". The night had turned suddenly chilly, and a blanket of fog was moving along the ground. She was shocked back into awareness by the booming voice of a gigantic man calling himself Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, telling the First-Years to board a fleet of small boats waiting at a pier by the station.  
  
She got into one small boat with three other new arrivals. As soon as the last boat was filled, they pushed off under their own power, following Hagrid as he rowed on ahead. It was a bit hard to see him, as the fog had moved onto the surface of the lake. After a few minutes, though, the fog suddenly lifted and Cho and the others were amazed at the sight.  
  
Cho had seen single castles before; her family had taken her to see the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace and other castles as part of her endless education. Hogwarts, however, wasn't any castle she had ever seen or even imagined: it was almost as if the castle had taken root and grown over the past thousand years. There were turrets and walls and battlements and sections that hardly seemed like built-on additions; more likely that Hogwarts grew more room as it needed more room, like some of stone plant.  
  
Cho was so focused on the castle that she didn't notice the boats docking until hers bumped into the pier. She got out with the others, and for a moment they all stood at the base of a wide stone stair leading to the main doors of the castle. Hagrid led them up to the doors, where they were met by an old, thin and rather severe-looking witch in spectacles.  
  
"Welcome to Hogwarts Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor McGonagall; I am the Assistant Headmistress here, and you ought to remember my name from the letters you received this summer.  
  
"Before we go in, I will explain what will happen. The student body is divided into four Houses: Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Slytherin. We will find out which House you will be in by your putting on a Sorting Hat. The Hat will tell you where you ought to be. After dinner, Prefects from your new House will conduct you to your Houses and your dormitories. Follow me."  
  
Professor McGonagall led the children through several hallways and into the Great Hall, where more witches and wizards than Cho had ever seen (outside of the Cup match in Gibraltar) were waiting for them, seated at four tables that ran almost the length of the Hall. They all seemed to be watching the new arrivals very closely.  
  
Cho noticed a couple of students pointing to her, then whispering to each other. She scanned the faces around her, and realized: she was probably alone. There were a few black students, and some Pakistani, but she was probably the only Chinese student at Hogwarts. She decided to deal with that as she had dealt with such problems the rest of her life: by taking people as they come. Some would give her a hard time for no reason at all, but there was no sense worrying about any of that until it actually happened.  
  
McGonagall brought forward a battered old stool, and set a pointed hat on top of it. The hat seemed to be made of shreds and patches, and was hardly a proper hat at all-except that, when she put it on the stool, it stayed upright, opened a seam between two of its patches, and started singing:  
  
"Just once every year I reports  
  
To the dining hall here at Hogwarts  
  
For some hats may fly  
  
Or keep your head dry  
  
But I am the one Hat that Sorts!  
  
Now Gryffindor may be your seat  
  
Or you may think that Slytherin's a treat  
  
But the sooner I decide  
  
Where you're going to reside  
  
The sooner you'll all get to eat!"  
  
Professor McGonagall began calling out the names of the First-Years:  
  
"Reginald Beechcroft!"  
  
As she did so, a boy came forward and sat on the stool. She placed the Sorting Hat on his head, and the Hat sang out:  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
And so it went  
  
"Harrison Bergeron!"  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
"Naomi Cadwalader!"  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
"Cho Chang!"  
  
Cho had gotten so involved with the rhythms of McGonagall reading names and the Hat shouting out Houses that it didn't register at first that she was being called. She gathered herself together, wished that one of her parents was here with her, and went up to the stool. As she approached, more nervous than she could ever remember being, she looked at the Head Table, where a very old wizard with a very long white beard smiled and winked at her. This actually relaxed her as she sat on the stool. The hat was placed on her head. At once a voice started humming between her ears:  
  
"Well, this is a rarity, I must say. A love of reading, and a brilliant mind; you'll go far already. But you also have a hunger to prove something; such a strong hunger I can almost taste it, and I don't have a tongue. Which will it be? Ravenclaw for learning or Gryffindor for valour?" Before Cho could even answer the question in her own mind, the Hat started talking again: "Out of respect for the Great Teacher, I'd better put you where your brains will be appreciated, and you'll still have a chance to prove your bravery over in RAVENCLAW!"  
  
The way that the Hat shouted out the last word jarred her; she didn't quite know what to do until she saw Penny Clearwater, on her feet, happily clapping and waving Cho over to her table.  
  
As Cho went over to the Ravenclaw table, she had to wonder how the Hat knew to call him the Great Teacher; everyone else in England referred to the long-gone Chinese philosopher as Confucius.  
  
All told, six boys and six girls were sorted into Ravenclaw that night. They were settling themselves at the dinner table when there was a call for attention from the Head Table.  
  
The old wizard with the long white beard rose to speak, and Cho realized with a shock that he was the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.  
  
"Greetings to those who have returned, and to those here for the first time. Most of the announcements I have to give are the ones I give every year at this occasion. Remember that the Forbidden Forest has its name for a very good reason, and avoid it. The list of items not allowed on campus has grown to include Sorcerer Slingshots and Hair-Dyeing Combs. This last may disappoint some of you, but the Ministry has found that counterfeit combs have been flooding the market lately, and that these combs have the unfortunate property of making the hair change colour three times a day and then fall out after a week. Let the buyer beware, as the old saying goes.  
  
"Madam Hooch will take the names of returning Quidditch players and their positions next week. At that time the Houses will hold tryouts and submit the names of prospective team members to Madam Hooch for clearance.  
  
"We all welcome the return of our Defense Against the Dark Arts master, Professor Quirell. Having spent a sabbatical year on the Continent, I am sure that he has brought back a great deal of useful information, from which we can all profit.  
  
"Having said all that, I have a wish for this year for all the students at Hogwarts: may you attack your studies as ferociously as I am about to attack my roast chicken. Enjoy!"  
  
Food suddenly appeared on all the House tables-masses of it, in seemingly unending quantities. Cho had to sit back a minute and take it all in. She decided she'd like meals at Hogwarts, but would have to be very careful not to put on too much weight. Couldn't be a proper Seeker, after all, if one weighed as much as a troll!  
  
xxx  
  
To be continued in part 3, wherein we meet her fellow First-Year Ravenclaws, and discover the delights of the Common Room. 


	3. Second Family, Second Home

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
3. Second Family, Second Home  
  
At one point during the dinner, ghosts started appearing in the Great Hall, passing by (and through) the various tables-except for Ravenclaw.  
  
"Where's our ghost, then?" asked one First-Year girl with a heavy Lake District accent.  
  
Penny never stopped eating as she explained, "She hardly ever takes part in a show like this. You'll met her later, I'm sure."  
  
Her? Cho and the other First-Years now noticed that the ghosts were predominantly male-a medieval monk here, an Elizabethan courtier there. Having a female ghost might be interesting.  
  
Finally, with the meal over and the dirty dishes gone as quickly as the filled ones had arrived, Professor McGonagall rose. "Time to return to your Houses for the evening. All First-Years will stay seated and wait for the Prefects to show you the way to your Houses. It is truly a bad idea to try to find your way through Hogwarts on your own on the first day." The older students left, Penny smiling and waving again at Cho on her way out of the Great Hall.  
  
A dark-haired, dark-skinned girl with a Prefects badge rose. "Right. I'll take you to Ravenclaw House in a minute. My name is Nita Paramenides, and they made me Prefect because I tricked 'em into thinking I had all the answers." There were scattered laughs among the First-Years. "Seriously, though, if you're having trouble with getting used to the place, whether it's the homework or the ghosts or being so far from home, just knock on my door. I'll help whatever way I can."  
  
One of the first-year boys, Giulio Grimaldi, piped up: "Can you help me lose my virginity?"  
  
"All I can do is wish you luck, mate," Nita answered back; "been trying to lose my own for years." The whole table was laughing now. "That reminds me; you First-Years better get used to something right now. There's damn little privacy in Hogwarts. Elves and ghosts are likely to pop up, right through the wall sometimes, and the pictures talk back to you, and every hearth is plugged into the Floo network. If you try to get away with anything--well, trust me, you won't.  
  
"Speaking of no privacy, I'll take you to Ravenclaw and show you where you'll kip for the next seven years. Come on."  
  
A dozen First-Years trailed along behind Nita, looking (Cho thought) like a parade of ducklings behind their mother. After what seemed a good half- mile walk up stairs and down corridors, they came to a massive tapestry that ran from the floor to the ceiling ten feet above them. It was in the style of an Italian Renaissance painting, and showed the goddess Athena with an owl perched on her shoulder.  
  
"Most Houses have one password protecting them. So does Ravenclaw, plus a bit more besides. When you get to this point, you say the password. It changes every week, and this week it's." With that, Nita turned to the tapestry and raised her voice: "STRIGIFORMUS!"  
  
With that, a corner of the tapestry curled itself back to reveal a short flight of stairs descending into the castle. The First-Years followed Nita down the stairs.  
  
"Excuse me," one of the students asked, "but what was that password again?"  
  
"Strigiformus; the biological order which includes owls. Sometimes we make the password a bit more complicated than necessary, but it'll keep you on your toes."  
  
They had reached the base of the stairs, where the hallway was blocked by a bookcase.  
  
"This is our second barrier, and after tonight you really won't have to worry about it. I want you all to take one of your books. I don't mean a schoolbook; I mean something you brought along to read just for the pure pleasure of reading it." Cho looked around; the other First-Years were simply nodding their heads. Nobody seemed to want to say that they hadn't brought such a book on the trip. Maybe that's how they know you're for Ravenclaw, she thought.  
  
"When you get up to the dormitory, you'll see a card by your bed, like a library card. Sign your name to the card, put the card in the book, then remember to leave the book in the bookcase when you go down to breakfast in the morning. Once you've done that, all you have to do is touch the spine of your book to open the case when you want to get in. There's no passwords or anything about getting out. And you can change books at any time; several times a day if you like. Only remember to keep that card in whatever book you use."  
  
Nita turned and touched the spine of a book whose title and author were written in Greek characters. At once, the bookcase slid to the side, like the automatic door at some Muggle shops. They all followed Nita inside, while trying to read some of the titles in the bookcase and maybe understand what kind of House they had been Sorted into.  
  
All that speculation stopped when they entered the Ravenclaw Common Room. Cho just stood there, her mouth open, as she looked around a room that seemed almost as big as the Great Hall. There was a large fireplace--big enough to stand up in--with a fire that blazed brightly. On either side of the hearth were staircases, which Nita explained separated the boys dorms (left) from the girls (right). On the opposite wall a large bay window looked out over the grounds.  
  
And everywhere: books. All the walls were lined with bookcases, right up to the ceiling. One student was even floating six feet above the floor on an enchanted ladder to reach a book on a top shelf. Books were piled up on tables, stacked in corners, lying open on divans or plush chairs, taking up all the available space on the window-sills. There were hundreds of books in the Common Room, yet none of them looked shabby or ill-used. Whoever had read them did so with respect, and even with affection.  
  
"Hullo Roger!"  
  
Nita had called out to the young man on the ladder; he grabbed the book he was looking for, and the ladder floated back to the floor. He was good- looking in a rugged, outdoors sort of way. Cho thought that he looked just the way a Quidditch player should look, with a face that was tanned and a little leathery, and hair bleached a shade or two lighter by hours in the summer sun tossing the Quaffle.  
  
"Everyone, this is Roger Davies. He's Third-Year but he's just been named House Quidditch Co-Captain. Of course, you don't have to worry about that yet."  
  
Without even thinking about it, Cho left the others and walked up to him, her hand out to shake Roger's. "I'm Cho Chang, and I'm going out for Seeker."  
  
He didn't make a move toward shaking her hand; he simply held onto the book he'd gotten-a book about the Chudley Cannons team-gave a half-smile and said, "Got no openings at present, but thanks anyway." Then he turned on his heel and went up to his dormitory.  
  
"Don't mind Roger; he's not usually that rude. Probably took one Bludger too many to the head over the summer." Everyone laughed but Cho; she kept staring at the stairs he'd just gone up, almost willing him to come back down so that she could prove herself.  
  
She caught her own thoughts with a start. Is that what I want: to prove myself? Is that what the Hat meant? How would it know.?  
  
She was brought out of her reverie by the rest of her class going up to their dormitories; Cho ran to catch up with the girls.  
  
On the stairwell they passed a ghost: a very beautiful woman with ancient clothing and a melancholy expression on her face.  
  
"Everyone, this is Ravenclaw's resident ghost. She's known simply as the Grey Lady. These are the First-Year girls, ma'am."  
  
The ghost seemed to look into the eyes of all six new girls at once; Cho felt as if thin fingers were sorting through her thoughts, looking for something important. After a few seconds, the ghost turned wordlessly and glided down the stairs.  
  
"She never says a word," Nita was saying, "and nobody knows her real name. I've often wondered about her story, but I've never been able to find out anything." She continued back up the stairs, followed by Cho and the others.  
  
They found themselves in a large circular room at the top of the stairs with six four-poster beds. Each bed was on a platform slightly raised off of the floor, and was hung with heavy brocaded curtains. There was a pot- bellied stove in the center of the room; it wasn't connected up to anything, and Cho guessed that during the winter it would provide heat without needing to burn any fuel. Beside each bed was a writing-desk and a floor-to-ceiling bookcase. One door led to the lavatory that served the whole suite.  
  
The animals were on their owners' beds, and they had been causing a bit of a commotion. There were, after all, four owls and two cats. One of the cats-pure black with luminous golden eyes-was growling at the screeching birds.  
  
"Pywacket!" scolded the cat's owner. "You'd better behave if you don't want me to send you back home!"  
  
Cho moved Quan Yin to her writing-desk and started to unpack her trunk. "Are the owls supposed to live with us, then?"  
  
"If ye want yers to, I s'pose, but I don't think it's a good ideer," the owner of the other cat said. She picked up her animal-a seal-gray short- tailed Manx-and tossed it out the door and onto the stairs. "She'll be friendlier once she's done her business. My name's Jane, but ever'body calls me Jan."  
  
"I'm Cho Chang; just Cho is fine. Where do the owls go?"  
  
"The Owl'ry. Got a whole flock o' school owls, plus the ones people bring. I brought me cat Coriander fer company, mos'ly. If my family wants ter send mail, they got their own owls."  
  
"Why do they call you Jan?"  
  
"My initials. Jane Austen Nugginbridge. How 'bout you-yer name mean anythin' in English?"  
  
"It actually means several things, depending on how you write it. I always say it means 'string of coral beads.'"  
  
"Aw, that's pretty. Ye're not from China, then?"  
  
"Never been, but my parents were born there. You're from the Isle of Man?"  
  
"Yeh," Jan said sheepishly. "Between the cat and the way I speak, it's a bit of a giveaway."  
  
There was a sudden scratching and yowling at the door. Jan ran to let Coriander back in. The Manx leapt into the room, sprang onto Jan's bed and cowered angrily in a far corner.  
  
"Forgot to warn you," Nita said. "The custodian, Argus Filch, has a cat named Mrs. Norris, and they're both pretty bad customers. Mrs. Norris usually roams the halls at night; best keep your cat in the dorm after dinner."  
  
Cho was the last to go to sleep that night. She stayed up an hour past the other girls, brushing out her hair and writing out a lengthy scroll for her parents telling about the train trip and her first day. As she tied the scroll to Quan Yin's foot, she looked the owl in the face, as if for the first time.  
  
"Hurry back, Quan Yin," she said, "and don't be afraid. This is our new home."  
  
The owl flapped off into the night. Cho turned to look at the darkened bedroom, lit only by moonlight, with curtains drawn on all the beds but her own.  
  
In amazement she repeated to herself, barely above a whisper: "This is home."  
  
xxx  
  
To be continued in part 4, wherein Cho has the worst day of her young life at the hands of the worst teacher in the entire school; but help and a close friend come to the rescue. 


	4. Valuable Lessons

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
4. Valuable Lessons  
  
Cho was up early; all the girls were, too excited to sleep too long. Once she was dressed, Cho thought briefly about putting Eunice Murray in the bookcase in the corridor, but decided instead on a copy of the Analects of Confucius. She filled out the card, placed it inside the front cover and went down to breakfast, leaving the book in the case.  
  
However, beginning at the tapestry, the First-Years spent a giddy twenty minutes trying to back-track themselves from last night. The castle seemed to refuse to let them get back to the Great Hall. Finally, they bumped into a very short professor with thick muttonchop whiskers and a twinkle in his eye.  
  
"Of course I'll help you find your way," he gushed happily. "Are any of you Ravenclaw, by chance?"  
  
"We all are," Letitia Groondie (Pywacket's owner) replied; "First-Year."  
  
"Excellent! I'm Professor Flitwick, and I'm the Head of Ravenclaw House. I also teach Charms, so I'll be seeing you later today for your first lesson."  
  
He was a cheery and enthusiastic little man who never stopped talking all the time he was leading the students through the halls of Hogwarts. He was always giving the history of some painting or the story behind some ghost. Cho hoped that all the teachers would be like him, but she had a feeling that they wouldn't be.  
  
Her feelings were right. For example, there was the Potions master, Severus Snape. That would be her first class on her first day as a Hogwarts student: Potions. She didn't think it would be so difficult. She'd read through the text, brought a cauldron, and tried to refresh her memory of some of the plants her parents sold in Diagon Alley before the train left. Of course, they sold to Chinese wizards and witches, and those who were interested in that side of magic. Still, this first course didn't look too bad.  
  
The classroom put her off, at first. It was, quite simply, a dungeon cell. The dozen Ravenclaw First-Years were crammed into a not-too-large room with another dozen students. There were First-Year Hufflepuffs, and Potions was to be a double class.  
  
At the stroke of the hour, the teacher strode briskly into the classroom as if he were late. His robes flowed behind him, and it would have made an impressive picture, if not for his sallow skin, sharp nose, and hair which hung straight, stringy and oily down over his collar.  
  
He immediately started speaking as if the class was waiting to hear from him. "This course is not about wands, spells or the more esoteric forms of magic. It is simple, and yet subtle at the same time. You will learn, before your days at Hogwarts are over, about the properties, good or ill, inherent in many species of plant life, minerals, animals and insects. Or, rather, I will teach, and you will try to learn." He picked up a sprig of a plant. "Can anyone tell me the properties of horsetail?"  
  
Cho was on her feet and talking even before she realized it. "That plant is one we've known about in China for thousands of years; we call it ma huang. It's used to promote breathing." So she went, on and on about the plant, giving everything she could remember from what she'd learned at the shoppe: the whole history of it, what it's used for, people who should and shouldn't take it. She expected Snape to congratulate her on being so knowledgeable. "Excellent answer!" he would declare; "full marks to Miss Chang!"  
  
Instead, Snape just looked at her, very coldly, and said, "Miss Chang, students of Ravenclaw House have a reputation for being clever-usually too clever for their own good. You seem to be fitting neatly into that tradition." And he turned away.  
  
What was that all about? Cho wondered. Again, without thinking, she blurted out: "Why did you ask the question if you didn't want the answer?"  
  
The others in the classroom cringed. Snape spun back around, clearly angry at Cho. "Ten points from Ravenclaw for insolence, and ten points from Ravenclaw for insubordination. If you don't know how to behave in a classroom, maybe you shouldn't be here at all."  
  
Cho didn't hear anything after that. She sat in a daze, moving sometimes when Jan prompted her to add something or other to the cauldron. She had no idea what the ingredients were, or what it would all turn into.  
  
Her only thoughts were: "I cost us twenty points! I wanted to do well, and I cost Ravenclaw twenty points! Maybe he's right; maybe I'm not ready for all this yet."  
  
The second the class was dismissed, Cho was out the door. She ran all the way back to Ravenclaw before she realized that she didn't remember the password. Just at that moment, though, an older boy ran out from under the tapestry. Cho ducked in before it closed, ran down the stairs and slammed her hand on her book. She ran up to the dormitory room, slammed the door shut and started piling furniture up against the door-anything she could move: writing desks, trunks, washstands.  
  
There came a pounding at the door. "What's going on in there? Miss Chang?" It was Nita the Prefect.  
  
Now that she had a chance to size up the situation, Cho saw that she was just making things even worse, but in her state of mind she didn't know how to undo what had happened. She just wanted to disappear off the face of the earth. "Leave me alone!" she shouted tearfully, then threw herself onto her bed, sobbing into the pillow.  
  
"Hullo, Cho."  
  
Cho looked up to see who was speaking. Penny Clearwater had just stepped in through the open window. Setting her broom down on the floor, she then walked over and sat down next to Cho as if nothing out of the ordinary had been happening.  
  
"Sounds like there's been some sort of problem."  
  
Hesitantly, tearfully, Cho began telling Penny what happened in Potions. Penny just waited until Cho finished the story and burst into tears again.  
  
"Potions, eh? I should have known. Nobody's told you about Snape, have they?" Cho shook her head. "Well, you know that Flitwick the Charms Master is also head of Ravenclaw House. He was very worried about you, by the way, when you didn't show up for Charms. You should go round and see him. Anyway, Snape isn't just Potions Master; he's also head of Slytherin House. He's a truly evil customer because of it; always favoring Slytherin for one reason or another, and taking points off of the other Houses. He was going to get us one way or another; it just happened to be your day, is all."  
  
"But I . I cost us . twenty points!"  
  
"You think that's something? We have one of the worst Quidditch teams of the century right now, and every time they play it costs us fifty points; the other side always gets the Golden Snitch, you see. But what we lose in Quidditch we make up for in academics."  
  
There was a pounding on the door. "What's going on in there?" an older woman's voice came through the door.  
  
Penny shouted back: "It's all right, Madam Pomfrey! Just give it a couple more minutes!" Penny turned back to Cho as if nothing had happened. "So, you were saying."  
  
Cho sniffed, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "Then the others won't hate me?"  
  
"Well, maybe for a day or two. But Snape's the real culprit here, you know. Anyway, this will all blow over, and someone else will do something else to cost us points. I'm sure this will all be forgotten in a week."  
  
Cho smiled weakly. "I'm sorry to be such a bother."  
  
"Think nothing of it. As I said, it'll all be forgotten in no time." Penny stood up, and helped Cho to her feet. "Maybe we'd better see to this lot now," Penny gestured toward the barricade of furniture.  
  
Cho started moving things back by hand; Penny, however, used her wand and sent the furniture back quicker than Cho could have moved it.  
  
"How." was all Cho could ask.  
  
"In Charms. It's one of the first lessons, in fact. Flitwick will show it to you next week, I'm sure."  
  
"Penny." Cho finally seemed to be free of the weight that had fallen on her in Potions. "Thanks for everything."  
  
"Don't worry about it. You've missed Charms; why don't we get some lunch before you go and make it up to Flitwick?"  
  
The two girls walked down to the Common Room. There, a cluster of Fifth- Year and Sixth-Year boys were waiting for them.  
  
"So it was Chang, then, after the first period?" asked one of the older boys. Penny rolled her eyes and nodded. Immediately, the boys started handing coins back and forth.  
  
Cho blushed. "Don't tell me."  
  
"Don't take it personally, Cho. Some of these idiots will bet on anything. They just uphold the tradition on trying to guess which one will 'bottom- out' first."  
  
"Bottom out?"  
  
"As in the bottom melting out of your cauldron. In their case, it means that some First-Year, every year, just loses his-or her-composure and starts panicking."  
  
"And that's how I'll be remembered, isn't it?"  
  
"Not likely," Penny chuckled. "There are a lot of other ways to be remembered."  
  
And before the week was out, Cho Chang would discover one such way.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 5, where Cho is first introduced to an old Comet 260, and uses it to surprise Madam Hooch 


	5. Get the Snitch

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
5. "Get the Snitch."  
  
By Thursday afternoon, whether or not the rest of Ravenclaw had forgotten about her public humiliation, Cho had certainly forgotten about it. There were more important things to think about. Thursday afternoon, she would have her first flying lesson, under Madam Hooch.  
  
She was practically the first one there, just beyond the Hogwarts castle walls at the side closest to the Quidditch stadium. She eyed the stadium hungrily, as she also eyed the twenty-four brooms spread out on the ground in two neat lines.  
  
"Don't know about you, but I've been flying at home for a couple of years," said one of Cho's classmates. This was Pablo Molina, the only other Ravenclaw First-Year to ask already about his chances for next year's Quidditch team.  
  
"So have I," Cho said, hoping that Pablo wouldn't start talking about the virtues of one broom over another. She didn't want to have to admit that she'd only just outgrown her Bruno.  
  
"Look at that lot, will you," sneered Vincent Krixlow, a bright enough student but owner of one of the strangest senses of humour in Ravenclaw. He was looking at the rows of brooms on the ground. "Hey, Pablo, you figure we can get McGonagall to teach us to Transfigure those things into real brooms?"  
  
These were school brooms, and had been used to teach First-Years to fly for years. Consequently, some of them were-to be polite about it-dated. There were quite a few Cleansweeps, a few Comet 260s, and even a couple of Spanish "Imperador" brooms-notorious for being almost impossible to turn.  
  
The talk stopped when they saw Madam Hooch striding from the castle. Nobody could guess her age-she was too old to be young anymore, but she was still too young to be old. She always seemed to move with quick, long- legged strides, which left her robes billowing behind her as if on a windy day. But it was her eyes-golden and glowing like a game-bird-that caught the students' attention.  
  
She apparently didn't believe in speeches, but got right down to business:  
  
"Form two lines facing each other, with a broom on the ground to your right."  
  
The two classes did as they were told. Cho had a fleeting notion that they were lined up for some kind of dance, and almost started giggling.  
  
"Stick your hand out over your broom and say, 'UP!'"  
  
Two dozen arms went out, with varying degrees of success. Most of the students got the broom to jump up into their hands, but only after shouting three or four times. Pablo Molina was one of the few who only had to say "Up!" once.  
  
Cho simply moved her hand over the broom. She didn't say a word, but the broom leapt up into her hand anyway.  
  
Madam Hooch caught this out of the corner of her eye. She caught everything to do with flying, of course. And, as head of Quidditch-related activities at Hogwarts, she couldn't let her judgment be influenced by whether the student was from one House or another.  
  
But, as she explained the basics of flying, her eyes kept coming back to the Chinese girl in Ravenclaw. Cho sat on her broom with an ease born of hours of practice. She'd never ridden a Comet 260 before, but within minutes it was responding quickly and cleanly to Cho's smallest gestures.  
  
Madam Hooch knew that she'd have to say something to her, but waited until class was dismissed.  
  
"Miss Chang! May I have a word?"  
  
Cho wasn't sure if she'd done something wrong again. "Is there a problem, Professor?"  
  
"The only problem is that they won't let a First-Year play Quidditch. May I ask where you learned to fly?"  
  
"Taught myself at home."  
  
"Do you follow Quidditch?"  
  
"Just in the papers. I've only been to a few matches."  
  
"Ever thought of playing yourself?"  
  
"If Hogwarts didn't have Quidditch, I wouldn't have come."  
  
"Hah! I like that!" She looked Cho up and down, and started talking to herself. "Build of a Seeker; of course, three years from now you could be totally different." She raised her voice again: "I want you to do something for me, Miss Chang. Wait here." Madam Hooch almost ran back to her office, then came out with a chest of Quidditch balls. "Have you ever tried chasing a Snitch before?"  
  
"No, ma'am, not really."  
  
"Well, you will now. Let's see what you're made of." Hooch took the Snitch out of the chest. "It's simple enough; I throw this and you catch it. You do know how, right? You said you've been to a match or two?"  
  
"Of course, Madam Hooch."  
  
Without another word, Hooch threw the Snitch straight up. Cho jumped up after it, riding the clunky old Comet 260 that she had used in class.  
  
Once she was a few dozen feet off of the ground, she looked around for the Snitch. She thought it perhaps had escaped, when she saw a blur of gold just behind one of the goalposts. As she moved toward it, it moved away.  
  
She had to think; what would Murray do about this? Murray never had a coherent philosophy of Seeking. Just one rule: Get the Snitch or die trying.  
  
Cho decided she didn't want to go that far just yet, but she'd have to really push herself in order to impress Madam Hooch.  
  
She leaned into the broom, trying to coax as much speed out of the Comet as she could. It seemed to be working, too, because the Snitch was no longer running away as fast or as far. There were moments when Cho could almost touch it.  
  
Then, just as she was gaining on it, it dropped straight down; Cho followed it straight down, not wanting to lose precious time by banking to stay upright. She was headed straight for the ground and would have buried herself nose-first in the pitch if the Snitch hadn't changed course yet again. This time it shot under her, running straight along the ground. Again Cho made a quick turn, not caring that she was flying upside-down, just a foot or two above the grass. She was too close to the Snitch now to lose it.  
  
Something told her that the Snitch would break again; would try another right angle escape; this time straight up, just before it hit the gallery wall. She dared to take her eye off the Snitch, only to watch where she thought it was going to go. And when it broke, it moved straight up, and into Cho's waiting hand.  
  
No sooner did she grab it, though, than she plowed into the canvas banner that hung in front of the gallery. She fell off of her broom, slid the two feet to the ground. She sat there a while, shaken, but holding tightly on to the Snitch.  
  
She was still shaken when Madam Hooch ran up to her. "You may well be self- taught, Cho Chang, but you're the best First-Year flier I've seen in years."  
  
"Can I get on the team, then?"  
  
Hooch gave a surprised laugh. "You ARE the eager one, aren't you? First of all, there are no openings in Ravenclaw. They have an experienced Seeker in Culligan, and he's not bad. Dimsdale, their Reserve Seeker, isn't fit to snip the twigs on your broom. You could take his place easily."  
  
Cho got unsteadily to her feet, still feeling the effect of the crash into the canvas. "Then what do I do, Madam Hooch? I have to play."  
  
"As well you should, and if it were a house other than Ravenclaw, I have no doubt that you would play. But they haven't let a girl on the team since before I started teaching here. So you not only have to catch the Snitch but also get it through the muddied-up mind of Roger Davies that you deserve to play."  
  
"How do I do that?"  
  
"First of all, you have a lot of natural talent, but that by itself won't get you where you want to go. Since you can't play until next year anyway, I want you to work with me. We'll get together for a few hours each week, so that I can teach you some of the fine points of the game. By this time next year, Mister Davies will put you on the team, or I'll demand to know the reason why!"  
  
Cho felt as if her wishes had all come true at once. Private Quidditch lessons from Madam Hooch! "It . it would be an honour, Madam."  
  
"Right. Off with you, then. And, you'd better let me keep that broom apart for you. You got more life out of it than it ever showed before, and I don't want any other student getting it all confused."  
  
Part of Cho wanted to take the Comet 260 back to the dormitory, to keep it under her bed. But, as long as Madam Hooch said it would be kept for her and her alone, she gave it back gladly. Then she literally ran back to Ravenclaw. Wait until her parents read about THIS!  
  
Her parents?! Would they be as excited as she that she showed promise at Quidditch? They had nothing but bad things to say about it up until now. But this surely had to change the picture. "The best First-Year flier in years!" An offer of private lessons! Only good could come of all this.  
  
Supper was already being served when she went into the Great Hall. She found a place between Jan and Pablo.  
  
"You're just getting back now?" Pablo asked.  
  
"Madam Hooch wanted to ask me something."  
  
"Giving her the benefit of your vast experience, no doubt," Francis Macgiver said. But he smiled pleasantly as he said it. That seemed to be Macgiver's personality: he could say some cutting things, but you couldn't stay mad at him for it.  
  
"She didn't take anything else off, did she?" Letitia muttered. She had cost Ravenclaw five points for sitting too far forward and digging a trench with her broom handle.  
  
"It's not that. It's." Without having touched a bite of her food, Cho stood up. "I'll tell you in the Common Room." Without another word, she dashed happily to Ravenclaw, through the Common Room and up to her dormitory.  
  
She entered just as one of her roommates was leaving: an East End girl, Raina al-Qaba, whose parents had come to London from Iran. Nobody had tried to get to know her yet, as far as Cho could tell. She was a Muslim, and always wore a scarf around her head, and left classes and meals at odd times to pray up in the dormitory. Still, Cho thought that they must both seem like outsiders to the rest of the school, and hoped that they could strike up a friendship.  
  
But that could wait until later. She decided, regardless of the way they seemed, that her parents would be more proud than angry about what had just happened. She had to write them. She had to write SOMEBODY.  
  
Not like Amber, a girl she knew in grade school, who used to take the important events in her life and write them up as letters to Harry Potter. True, he'd done something impressive years ago, but where was he now? What was he doing now that he was older? How old was he, anyway.  
  
Stop that, Cho scolded herself; you're stalling. Write!  
  
"Dear Mummy and Daddy-  
  
"This letter is being written by 'the best First-Year flier in years'!!."  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 6, wherein Cho listens to Professor Quirrell lecture in Defense Against the Dark Arts 


	6. Lessons and Fights

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
6. A Lesson and a Fight  
  
The next day, Cho and the other Ravenclaw First-Years went in a bunch to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. It was in a part of the castle where the upperclassmen warned them not to go alone.  
  
"What's the problem; is it haunted?" That was Diana Fairweather, who despite her name was the most pessimistic girl Cho had ever met. To hear her tell it, nothing would ever go right again in the history of the world. It was Thursday night, they were all in the Common Room talking about their Dark Arts class the next day.  
  
"In a manner of speaking," Penny Clearwater said, curled up in an armchair in front of the Common Room fire. "You're near Filch's office. So, unless you want to tangle with him or Mrs. Norris."  
  
"We travel in packs, and the predators might get confused," Vincent Krixlow picked up the thought. "Of course, they could just end up thinning the herd of those too weak to go on."  
  
"And who exactly is supposed to be thinned out, Vincent?" Letitia asked.  
  
"Well, not Cho, of course; we may have to hitch a ride on her broom."  
  
Word of Hooch's praise for Cho got around the First-Years just after Cho sent Quan Yin back to Diagon Alley with the letter to her parents. Davies and the team, however, seemed to be avoiding her.  
  
"Don' rightly know what they're afeared of," Jan said. "Not like yeh could play this year ennyway."  
  
"I think our Co-Captain Davies likes things just as they've been for decades." This was Lizabeth (Libby) Foggly, who made no secret of her interest in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She intended to major in it later on. "But he can't hang onto the past forever, can he, Cho? Somebody's got to turn the tide."  
  
"I just never expected it to be me. I want to play Quidditch; I didn't think I'd have tp move the world to do it."  
  
"Not the world, Cho; just our little corner of it." Penny closed her book and stretched like a cat. "Pardon my manners, but I've got to read two more chapters by tomorrow and I can't look at another rune. I'm going to nap for an hour or two and pick it up later." She pointed toward a day-bed upholstered in worn dark-green velvet.  
  
"Do you need us to go upstairs, then?" Letitia asked.  
  
"No need. That's another Ravenclaw tradition you'll find out about. If you've got a lot of reading to do, it's more comfortable to do it here in the Common Room. You can sleep in the chairs or sofas if you like. Not as comfortable as a bed, but good enough, and the others'll leave you in peace."  
  
"But isn't it ." Everyone turned; this was the first time Raisa had spoken up outside of class this week. She had a nervous voice, which grew quieter and more nervous with the room's attention on her. "I mean, what if someone decided to go through your pockets while you slept, or . or some boy decided he wanted to ." She looked down at her lap, where she was wringing her hands.  
  
"You're probably safer here than in your dormitory. You see that picture?" Penny was pointing to a painting of a ruined castle on a hillside. It was one of the few landscapes they'd seen on a Hogwarts wall. "Somehow or other, the Grey Lady lives in that painting. She's connected to it, at any rate. Nothing nasty has ever happened in this room in my memory, but I was told that, if something did happen, she'd be here at once with the other ghosts-and worse. Or so I've been told."  
  
"Load o' rubbish." That was Gurney Ingletor, whose family lived just outside of Dover. "Ghost can't touch you or anythin' anyway. How they goin' to stop you?"  
  
"They don't have to touch you," Libby said. "I've read of cases where ghosts have messed about with people's senses. Let's say that you're there, and I'm sitting here."  
  
"Where are we? What about your audience?" Vincent asked.  
  
"The point I want to make is this: You think you can, let's say, pull out your wand and put a Curse on me. A ghost can't tackle you or pull the wand out of your hand, but they can affect the way you see. Maybe you'll see me five feet to the left of where I really am, or you'll see that the room is a mile long."  
  
"Well, I'd notice something is different, wouldn't I?"  
  
"Not necessarily. Hardly anyone challenges the evidence of their own senses. It takes someone with very firm control..."  
  
Cho looked over at the day-bed; Penny was sound asleep. She smiled as she listened to Libby and Vincent going back-and-forth on ghosts. She was an only child, and had often wondered what it would be like to have brothers and sisters. Now it seemed that she'd just picked up eleven of them her own age, and then there were the older ones.  
  
This really IS a family, she said to herself.  
  
xxx  
  
In spite of the dire predictions, they arrived in one piece at their Defense Against the Dark Arts class.  
  
They found themselves in a dungeon cell. Apart from the occasional torch or taper, whatever light there was in the room came through very narrow windows, only a couple of inches high, set along one wall.  
  
"The Prof's not here yet," Vincent said. "Hey, Gurney, give us an alley- oop."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Boost me up to that window; I wanna see where we are."  
  
Cho didn't particularly care about all that, and took a seat next to Libby.  
  
Vincent, meanwhile, was hanging by his fingertips and trying to look through the window. "No good; can't see nothing but grass. Although that may be the stadium."  
  
"He's coming!" Letitia said by the door. "Get down!" Vincent dropped to the floor just in time as Professor Quirrell walked into the classroom.  
  
He wasn't as tall or as imposing as many of the students had secretly feared. He seemed rather young to be a Professor; as if he hadn't been out of college very long. His face was as pale as candle-wax, and seemed even paler due to the purple turban that he wore.  
  
"Welcome, c-c-class." Professor Quirrell had a stammer, as well as an eye which twitched at odd intervals. Cho realised that she couldn't let herself get distracted by all of that if she wanted to concentrate.  
  
"I d-don't know what s-s-silly rumours you may have heard, b-but even though this class deals with the D-Dark Arts, you won't be learning any of them here. N-No, the t-t-trick here is to learn to d-d-defend yourself against them, w-w-which has to start at the m-most b-b-basic level.  
  
"Miss, er al-Q-Qaida: can one b-be b-b-born without magic, then g-get it later in life?"  
  
"No, sir." Her voice was very soft, but carried through the whole room. "If you can do magic late in life but not early, we assume it was always there."  
  
"Well done, R-R-Ravenclaw. Miss Ch-Ch-Chang, on p-p-p-page f-f-forty- eight, Trimble says that the D-D-Dark Arts can be used by M-M-Muggles more easily than proper magic; t-true or f-f-false?"  
  
She'd learned her lesson from Snape's class; no showing-off. Well, maybe a little. "That's false, sir. Trimble says it's more common for Muggles to use the Dark Arts, but that's only because they offer more of a temptation."  
  
"A p-p-perfect answer!" Quirrell was smiling; the students in the front row were not.  
  
xxx  
  
"Got to bring an umbrella next time," Vincent joked as they returned after class.  
  
"Yeh," picked up Giulio Grimaldi. "Expect intermittent showers every Friday afternoon."  
  
"That's cruel," Jan snapped at them. "Poor thing can' help it."  
  
"How come nobody warned us about that stammer?" asked George George Millethammer.  
  
"He wasn't always like that," Cho replied. "Penny Clearwater told me that he was fine until he took last year off. Wanted to go to Transylvania, Albania, some of those places to do some research. When he came back, he was like that."  
  
"I feel sorry for him," Letitia said. "What do you suppose did that to him?"  
  
"Nothin' I wants ter meet," Jan said. "Hey, Cho, yeh wants ter werk on tha' essay together? Yeh kin read Trimble, I'll read Quaffling, and we can match 'em up."  
  
"That sounds good. Let's meet Sunday after lunch in the library."  
  
Grimaldi crossed his hands over his heart and fluttered his eyelids. "Ah, the term's first romance."  
  
Whatever else he was going to say was lost when Jan turned on him, grabbed the knot of his tie and pushed him violently against the wall of the corridor.  
  
"Yeh wants ter repeat that?" she said in a low growl. "My fist di'nt quite hear yeh." She waved that fist an inch from Grimaldi's nose for emphasis.  
  
"Jan! Stop that!"  
  
"But we all heard him, Cho."  
  
"That's no excuse, I'm afraid," came a deep, somewhat hollow voice behind them. They turned; it was the ghost known as the Fat Friar. Usually he was always smiling, but not now. "Surely, no words are sufficient to provoke such violence."  
  
"Yeh ain't heard these words, then."  
  
"Jan, he'll tell Flitwick!"  
  
"Flitwick, did you say?" the ghost asked. "Then you would be from Ravenclaw House. I would only be obliged to report this to the Gray Lady. But she surely would tell Professor Flitwick."  
  
Jan, while still glowering at Grimaldi, let go of him. She turned and strode quickly toward Ravenclaw, the others following.  
  
"You got off easy, Nugginbridge," Grimaldi shouted after her.  
  
"Too right," agreed Vincent; "one more minute and she would have been all worn out from polishing the floor with your face."  
  
Cho had rushed to catch up with Jan, and walk fast to keep up with her. "What was that all about?" she asked in a whisper.  
  
"Shouldn't joke 'bout things like that," she muttered, almost to herself.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Like bein' bloody unnatural!" Jan picked up her speed to get back to Ravenclaw.  
  
Cho didn't know if this would be a problem later on. She wasn't interested in girls-or boys, for that matter. But Jan was her first real friend at Hogwarts, and she didn't want this to turn into the start of a larger problem. Still, she had to chuckle to herself. Yesterday I thought we were a family; I guess this just proves it.  
  
The others were catching up to her. Never mind, Cho said to herself; nothing may come of it after all. There are more important things-like dinner, and homework, and the first lesson with Madam Hooch tomorrow.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 7, wherein Roger Davies and some other Ravenclaws talk about girls in general, and Cho in particular, playing Quidditch 


	7. WellPlayed Quidditch

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
7. Well-Played Quidditch  
  
As happened at Hogwarts every year, the first week, full of new and exciting changes for the First-Years as well as the returning students, gradually gave way to the usual school routine. Cho and her Housemates soon found themselves making the circuit from dormitory to Great Hall to classroom to library as if they'd already been at Hogwarts for years.  
  
They found out that Professor Flitwick was almost too nice for his own good. Even if the student wasn't from Ravenclaw, he seldom issued any kind of punishment for even the worst infractions; such as the time Giulio Grimaldi was supposed to Charm a turtle into speaking. It spoke-such a lengthy and colorful string of filthy language that Flitwick nearly fainted.  
  
After their first day, all the Ravenclaw First-Years were wary of Snape and Potions. Cho came to realize that the way around Snape (most of the time) was to do precisely as he asked-no more, no less. There were days when he looked at her as she entered the classroom as if to say, "Right, girl; you are my target for today." Still, she thought she'd had the worst of him that first day, and was no longer bothered by Snape even when he did pick on her.  
  
They found out for themselves how unbelievably boring a lecture in Professor Binns' History of Magic class could be. They found out that Professor Quirrell, who told such awful tales about his researches into the Dark Arts, and his experiences during his sabbatical year, was actually holding back on some of the "really horrid" stories until they were older. They found out that Astronomy Professor Sinistra had also been a Ravenclaw and, like many of them, had a wry sense of humour.  
  
Ravenclaw House was the home of those who were dedicated to wit and learning, and their wit manifested itself at times in jokes and humour. Not the practical joking practiced by Fred and George Weasley of Gryffindor- two Third-Year twins who were as notorious around Hogwarts as Peeves the poltergeist-but the kind of humour that took a bit of time and effort both to create and to enjoy. Diana Fairweather, for instance, was a half-and- half, having a wizard father and a Muggle mother. She called her owl "Pillarbox", knowing that anyone who knew about Muggles would get the joke. Vincent Krixlow, on the other hand, called his owl "Spaghetti", but would never explain why.  
  
Nearly every night the Common Room would see a debate, or an informal reading, or someone telling an elaborate story or demonstrating some particular bit of magic. People listened, or took part, or went to their dormitories or the library, depending on their homework. Those who were Sorted into Ravenclaw House didn't do these things because they felt that they had to uphold some tradition or other. They genuinely enjoyed the give-and-take; even if, like Raisa al-Qaba, they were too shy at first to do more than just listen.  
  
Cho would listen or not, take part or not, depending on her schedule. She was very conscientious about her homework, knowing that her parents were putting a great deal of weight on her. They had immigrated to London, where Cho was born, and she was the first Chang at Hogwarts. When they saw her off at King's Cross that first day, her mother reminded Cho of her priorities:  
  
"You need to remember at all times: you are a witch second, and a Chang first. You must do nothing that would disgrace your parents, or their parents, or the generations of ancestors that caused you to be born."  
  
Cho understood about ancestral obligations and tried to live up to the demands her mother had put on her. She made sure that her homework was done early and accurately. Only then would she allow herself to see if anything interesting was happening in the Common Room.  
  
There was one topic, though, that always stopped Cho in her tracks regardless of her homework: Quidditch. If any of the team members were discussing anything related to the sport, she would stand to the side, mentally taking notes. She wanted to learn all she could about the sport, and about the House team she hoped to join next year.  
  
She learned that the rude Third-Year, Roger Davies, who was on the ladder the first day, was Co-Captain along with the Sixth-Year Seeker, Macarthur Culligan. Their families were neighbors in the little wizarding village near Abergavenny where they lived. They acted like brothers, even when they argued-and Quidditch was one topic that they seemed to argue about almost continuously.  
  
"Mackie," Davies could be heard arguing one Friday night in early November, sitting in the bay window, "there's nothing wrong with the Dopplebeater Defence!" They were talking about a wicked offensive move in which both Beaters hit the same Bludger at the same time. The Bludger would hit its target quicker and more powerfully-if it hit the target at all.  
  
"Not officially, no," Culligan's voice came back-a surprisingly soft and musical voice. While Roger worked to lose his Welsh accent, Culligan did not. He was in a stuffed chair by the hearth, his legs stretched out. "The Department hasn't outlawed it. It just makes no sense to use it."  
  
"Come off it. Don't tell me you haven't gone up against someone who needed that."  
  
"What, here? This is Hogwarts, boyo. Admit it or not, we're all children here, one way or another, and you're talking about a move that'd stun a mountain troll. Professionals can use that move, but it makes no sense in a place like this."  
  
Cho couldn't help it; just as it had happened in Snape's class a few weeks before, she jumped into the middle of the conversation. "And what's happening on the rest of the pitch? You've tied up both Beaters hitting the one Bludger, and you've left the others to shift for themselves."  
  
She couldn't help it. She felt proud of herself and her argument; she had gone over that very move with Madam Hooch just the week before, just because so many teams have used it against Seekers closing in on the Snitch. And she knew that she'd have to deal with both Davies and Culligan next year to get on the team, so it wouldn't hurt to let them know in advance that she had a comprehensive knowledge of the game, and didn't just want to be a Seeker for the glory.  
  
But Davies didn't even look at Cho. He simply turned to Culligan, with a self-satisfied smirk. Culligan turned to Cho with a face as still as a pond. "On the other hand," he said to Cho quietly, "it's a perfectly legal move."  
  
This was a disaster: the first day of Potions all over again. She turned toward the dormitory stairs, but she didn't run, and she didn't barricade herself in again. She knew that the next day was Saturday, which meant a lesson from Madam Hooch right after breakfast; and, later, watching her first Hogwarts Quidditch match.  
  
Had she stayed and listened to what else was said around the hearth, it might have challenged her resolve.  
  
"That's her then, is it?" Culligan asked in a voice that only seemed offhand. "Chong, you said, or Ching."  
  
"Chang; Cho Chang." Davies got up from his bay window seat. "Asked about being Seeker the very first day."  
  
"She's the build for it."  
  
"You're not serious!"  
  
"Just thinking ahead. Any hope for Dimsdale this year, then?"  
  
"As a Chaser, perhaps. But we can leave him as a Reserve Seeker; there'll never be a need to play him."  
  
"Never, is it? Boyo, I've seen your Divination marks, and you've no more business telling the future than my granny's cat."  
  
"But you're wanting to break the tradition."  
  
"No I'm not. But I'm thinking it may have to be broken, just the same."  
  
"What tradition is that, then?" asked Letitia Groondy.  
  
Before anyone else could speak, Grimaldi chimed in: "That you can't play Quidditch for Ravenclaw unless you've got a broomstick between your legs."  
  
Letitia blushed crimson. Some of the students in the Common Room laughed- some, but not all.  
  
Upstairs, Cho was brushing her hair and chatting with Jan when Quan Yin showed up with a scroll from her parents. When she had first written them about taking lessons from Madam Hooch, the subject was never even mentioned. None of the letters from her parents mentioned Quidditch at all. She opened this scroll expecting little change:  
  
"Your father and I have been making inquiries into this Hooch. She is held to be a valued member of the Hogwarts faculty. She briefly played professional Quidditch, as you probably know by now, before being asked to teach broom-riding at Hogwarts.  
  
"I understand that we are in England, and that we must 'do as the Romans do'. I only wish that you could have the experience of riding clouds, like a proper Chinese wizard, instead of straddling a broom in a highly vulgar manner. But, for the time being, you may continue taking private lessons with Hooch. We will take it as a sign that she recognizes your expertise and above-average talent, which is only proper."  
  
Cho set the scroll down on her bed. Jan walked over from her own bed, picked it up and read through it. "Mighty nice of 'em ter let yeh study wi' Hooch, since ye've been doin' it fer two months ennyway." Then she noticed that Cho was simply sitting there, not speaking or moving, facing away. "Cho?"  
  
Cho turned back toward Jan. Tears were running down her face, yet she was smiling. "Sorry," she said, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her nightgown. "They don't say it too often, and it's always a bit of a shock when they do."  
  
"When they do what?"  
  
"Tell me how talented they think I am."  
  
Jan glanced back over the scroll, to be sure they had read the same letter. "Well, ye'd better start getting used ter hearin' it, since ye're gonna be on nex' year's squad. We'll all expect yeh ter win the Cup fer the nex' six years!"  
  
They both laughed at that, but, as Cho went to sleep that night, it was to dreams of exactly that: catching the Golden Snitch, winning the House Quidditch Cup, with her parents in the stands leading the applause.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 8, wherein Cho watches her first match at Hogwarts, and is less than thrilled by what she sees. 


	8. How You Play The Game

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
8. How You Play the Game  
  
Everyone at Hogwarts always attended the Quidditch matches. It was a chance to watch some quick and skillful flying; it was a way of connecting with the wizarding world through the very sport that defined it; it was a thrilling way to watch young people in their prime test themselves to the limit.  
  
It was also a way to skive off doing one's homework for a few more hours, but this was a given. It was also a given that, apart from homework, there was precious little else to do at Hogwarts. Visits to the nearby village of Hogsmeade were limited to Third-Years and older, and then only on certain days. Some students with common interests might band together to form clubs, but while these weren't officially sanctioned by Dumbledore and the faculty, they were at best tolerated, and they started up and died out rather quickly. And, as Nita had warned the Ravenclaw First-Years, there was always someone or something about to get in the way of a student in search of privacy. So Quidditch, apart from the attractions it held in its own right, was a popular, almost compulsory, part of life at Hogwarts.  
  
Cho woke up on the morning of November 8, 1990 perhaps more anxious than anyone else at the school to watch the match. She was the first one out of bed, the first one to the Great Hall, the first one to finish what was a very light breakfast in any case, and the first one out to the Quidditch stadium. Of course, she had her own reason to be there: her weekly lessons with Madam Hooch.  
  
Hooch was, as Cho's parents had found out, a thoroughgoing and highly professional flier. She didn't suffer any nonsense from the students in classes or on the pitch. She didn't approve of the Falmouth Falcons' tendency to add mayhem to the game. The pride of her pre-Hogwarts life was to play for two seasons with the Montrose Magpies, the same team that featured the great Seeker and Cho's idol Eunice Murray.  
  
Of course, there's a limited number of moves one can perform all alone, but each Saturday morning Hooch would lay them out and Cho would fly them. By now, her flying was nearly flawless. So they also started talking strategy.  
  
"Has it ever happened that the Snitch hides amongst the spectators?"  
  
"More often than they like to tell, and you can't exactly expel a member of the crowd for Nipping. Although, usually, by the time a referee catches onto what's happened, the Snitch is out of the stands and back in play."  
  
"Hard to imagine what a Seeker's supposed to do."  
  
"Mostly, you try not to get Bludgered. That's the best time to go after a Seeker; when they're sitting and waiting for the Snitch to show itself. It's one thing if you're still Seeking; you're always on the move. If you ever stop, you're fair game."  
  
"Do you think we could add some Bludgers to my practices, then?"  
  
"You're very brave to suggest that, but I wouldn't want to do that just yet. Mostly, I'd need to find a Beater I could trust. I don't think we could enlist anyone who plays on a House team."  
  
Cho thought about William Becksnee and Harry "Jinx" Jenkins, the two Ravenclaw Beaters. They were Fourth-Year and she heard that they had some solid experience, but she knew that they also believed in the tradition of "no girls on the Ravenclaw team".  
  
"Maybe I can talk to a Reserve," Hooch was saying to herself; "they don't get to play much. Then there's faculty; I've heard Snape was quite a Beater in his younger days." Cho must have turned visibly pale, because Hooch smiled. "No fear, Cho. I wouldn't put you up against him. I'll think about it and let you know next week. That's all for now. Sorry to cut it short, but there's the game to prepare for."  
  
Cho dashed back up to Ravenclaw for a quick wash and a fresh set of robes; then, she and her dorm mates were off to their first Hogwarts match.  
  
They sat among other Ravenclaws; Cho was between Jan and Penny Clearwater, who she'd only been able to talk to a handful of times since the first day. The weather was perfect; just cool enough, with a few light clouds to keep the sun from blinding the players and spectators.  
  
This year's Best Boy, a Hufflepuff named Harry Seagoon, amplified his voice in order to address the stadium:  
  
"Good day, all, and welcome to the first Quidditch match of the year. The defending champions, Slytherin House, will be sending their seven against the team from Ravenclaw House. Both teams are a mix of the seasoned and new faces brought in off of the reserves, so it should certainly be an interesting match."  
  
Cho thought that Seagoon sounded anything but interested. He was trying to affect the vaguely bored, hushed style of Muggle announcers of games such as golf or cricket, and he was doing far too good a job of it.  
  
"The teams are now assembled on the field. Defending champs Slytherin in the green, led by Chaser Marcus Flint. In the blue is Ravenclaw, under Seeker Macarthur Culligan. They approach Madam Hooch, the Captains shake hands and -oh my, that was not a conventional handshake at all. Flint almost Cobbed Culligan with an elbow to the ribs during the handshake. Most irregular, but since the game hasn't started yet, I suppose that all's fair. Madam Hooch has the whistle to her lips, and ."  
  
The game began.  
  
xxx  
  
It ended forty-eight minutes later with Terrence Higgs catching the Snitch for Slytherin. The final score was 400 to 290.  
  
Jan had been bouncing up and down with excitement during most of the game, and Penny yelled herself nearly hoarse. Cho sat there, staring silently at the play, trying to keep track of the Golden Snitch as well as the players.  
  
The Ravenclaw girls walked back to the castle as a group, mostly chattering about the game. When Jan tried to ask Cho about it, though, Cho would simply nod, agree with whatever Jan was saying, then change the subject. After lunch, Cho excused herself, saying that she had to finish up a report for Binns. She walked to the tapestry, said the password ("Mandragora"), and went up to the dorm. Raisa was just leaving to go to lunch; they smiled at each other as they passed on the stairs. This was considered progress.  
  
Cho went to her writing-desk, and started writing on a fresh piece of parchment:  
  
"Dear Mummy and Daddy,  
  
Most of this letter will be about Quidditch. If you wish to stop reading it now and destroy it, I wouldn't object. But I have to talk to someone about what I've just seen, and I really have no one here whom I could tell what I am about to tell you.  
  
I just got back from watching my first Hogwarts Quidditch match, and it was a COMPLETE and TOTAL PILE OF RUBBISH!! I'm sorry to be so blunt about it, but there's simply no other way to describe accurately what just happened.  
  
The teams were from Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Both teams had some talented players, but both teams also had a couple of placeholders who could have been taken out of the game and never missed.  
  
I don't know whether to be angry at the Slytherins or sad for them. They have some talent, and have apparently tried to cultivate it. Unfortunately, they seem to feel that they cannot have a victory without using every foul and trick they know to get to it. It started when the Slytherin Captain tried to injure the Ravenclaw Captain during the handshake, and it just got worse from there.  
  
The team from my own House was far more ethical and no less skilled, but they didn't make the best use of the talent they had. I counted three opportunities when our Seeker could have gotten the Snitch, but instead allowed himself to be frightened off by a Bludger or an oncoming Chaser. Our Chasers were competent, and we were ahead on points when Slytherin caught the Snitch, but they also allowed themselves to be cowed at times and missed chances to run up the score. Our Keeper, named Davies, pretty much carried the team for most of the hour. Unfortunately, he was stuck in his position, and ought to be made a Chaser.  
  
Mummy, Daddy, I remember your feelings about my playing Quidditch, and you may be wondering again why I am boring you with all of this detail. Unfortunately, there is no one else here to talk to about it. I still mean to try for the team next year, so it wouldn't do me much good to walk up to the Captain now and say, 'Here's a list of everything you're doing wrong'. In fact, I did something rather like that when I first got here, and have since learned that sometimes I am better off holding my tongue. Does it surprise you, Mummy, that your "impertinent little Horse" is learning discretion as well as Charms and Potions and Flying?  
  
If I haven't done it lately, I thank you again for sending me to Hogwarts, and thus giving me a chance to see the world through the eyes of hundreds of other witches and wizards my own age. If I had stayed in London or in Diagon Alley, I might have learned some of what I now know about the academic subjects here. However, I should have missed out on lessons that cannot be taught in a book: lessons about cooperation and friendship, lessons about life in the greater world. I sometimes wonder, during the days and nights when I am studying or writing out assignments or gazing at the stars or dining with friends, whether some day I shall step off of the train at King's Cross and I shall have changed so much that you would not recognize me. But I don't think that day shall ever come. Even if you are riding clouds and I am riding a broom, we will surely know each other if we meet in the sky.  
  
Write when you can.  
  
Cho"  
  
She took the letter up to the Owlery. Ravenclaw was the House closest to the Owlery, as if the Founders knew which House would make the most use of it. She found Quan Yin preening herself with her bill. She stopped when Cho entered, and waited patiently while Cho tied the scroll to her leg. A momentary nod, much like a Chinese bow, and Quan Yin was off, flying toward London.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 9, wherein Cho decides what to do about the holidays, but didn't count on Roger Davies being part of those plans. 


	9. Holiday for a Seeker

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
9. Holiday for a Seeker  
  
Shortly after that first game, Professor McGonagall began circulating the list for those who would be staying at Hogwarts through the Christmas holidays. Cho put her name down immediately to stay.  
  
"Can't believe you love this drafty old place THAT much," Gurney Ingletor said the night before the holidays in the Common Room. Most of the First- Years were there, including the two cats, who had learned by now that they had the run of Ravenclaw House, but that the rest of Hogwarts could be rather dicey.  
  
"Believe what you like, then," Cho smiled, "although I do love it here. The fact is, my parents will be out of town for the holidays. They're visiting China; their first time back in years."  
  
"Why din't they want you along?" Jan asked, sitting on a sofa with her cat on her lap.  
  
"I think they wanted to get the lay of the land. The Muggle government in China is a lot worse than England's for witches. Some times it's better than others, or so I gather. Anyway, Mummy said they were going to see some family, who I wouldn't know in any case, and they wanted to spend time with each other."  
  
"'Spend time with each other', eh?" Giulio Grimaldi asked with raised eyebrows. "So what names do you fancy, Cho?"  
  
"Names?"  
  
"Sounds like you're going to be competing with a little brother or sister."  
  
"Give it a rest," Vincent Krixlow said. "They don't need to travel halfway round the world just to put some scones in the oven."  
  
The others laughed. Cho blushed Gryffindor crimson, but not just at what they were saying. She tried to work out how she was born, and what her parents would have to have done to bring that about. As a child she accepted the statement that she grew inside her mother as such; now, for the first time in her life, her imagination was filling in the gaps.  
  
"Anyway, there's sure to be others staying here," Letitia said. "What about you, Raisa?"  
  
The Iranian girl nodded. "My parents are also taking a trip. They are making what is called the 'Witches' Hajj.'"  
  
"What's that, then?"  
  
"A pilgrimage, visiting places mentioned in legends of the sorceress Scheherazade. What you call the 'Arabian Nights' is a history of some of the greatest magic of the East. The pilgrimage starts in Cairo, goes to Basra, Damascus, Baghdad."  
  
"Baghdad, did you say?" Penny interrupted. She was up on the ladder retrieving a book on Mexican dragons; "something light" to read on vacation. "The Muggles are massing for a war there now! Is it safe, do you think?"  
  
"Those lands have never been safe, for witches or Muggles. But my parents will have many powerful wizards with them on the Hajj. They'll be protected."  
  
"Well, you two can keep the Grey Lady company for the hols, but I have to get back to the Smoke," Diana Fairweather said. "My parents are taking me to see a Muggle play in the West End, and Ignosius at the Really Old Vic." Enflammus Ignosius was the greatest wizarding playwright of the Elizabethan period, and his rollicking comedy "Fetch Me Familiar Off Yon Muggle's Roof" was his best-loved work. "I just don't know how the faculty can stand it, living up here month after month."  
  
Vincent stretched his feet toward the fireplace. "No doubt Hogsmeade has its compensating attractions. Any of you been yet?"  
  
"We can't go unless we're Third-Year; you know that," Libby Foggly said.  
  
Giulio started whistling tunelessly and examining his fingernails.  
  
"Wouldn't put it past yeh ter sneak over; nor Vincent neither. Tryin' ter compete wi' the Weasley Twins, are ye?" Jan picked Coriander up off the sofa, and the two of them went up to the dorm.  
  
The others seemed by one consent also to want to go up to their dorms to finish packing. They'd be taking an early train to get back into London while there was still a little daylight.  
  
"Cho?"  
  
It was Penny, just stepping down from the ladder. They were the only two in the Common Room now.  
  
"So you'll be here over the break?"  
  
"I'd be home alone if I went back to Diagon Alley. Besides, I thought I should experience this place over Christmas at least once."  
  
"Well, you won't exactly be alone, you know." Penny looked around before she spoke again. "The Quidditch team is staying over."  
  
"What, all of them?"  
  
Penny nodded. "Roger and Mackie were a little upset about the loss to Slytherin."  
  
"And well they should be! They could have won easily, but they let Slytherin scare them off."  
  
"That's Flint's doing."  
  
"No, it's our fault, because we let them scare us. If they want the Cup, they'll have to risk a few bumps."  
  
"Cho," Penny giggled, a bit frightened by Cho's passionate outburst, "it's only a game."  
  
"That's certainly the way they play it. They should be more serious."  
  
"All I meant to say was that they'll be around over the break, and you might want to stay out of their way."  
  
"Not to worry, Penny. I don't want to bother them-at least, not until I'm on the team."  
  
xxx  
  
On Christmas morning, Cho woke up to the sight of presents at the foot of her bed. She hadn't been sure that her parents would send anything at all.  
  
She looked over at Raisa's bed; the drapes were still shut. Cho went down to the edge of the bed and looked at the top of her trunk. There were several small parcels there, plus a small box with a larger envelope, on which was written, "Open This First!".  
  
Cho opened it and found a letter inside:  
  
"Happy Christmas Cho!  
  
This will be the first Christmas we have ever spent apart. I realize that it was not possible this year, but I wish you could be with us in China; seeing this land and meeting its people-even the Muggles-would tell you more about your family and your heritage than I ever could in words. Besides, I'm sure that there are interesting things to do at school."  
  
Oh, very interesting, thought Cho, if you don't mind writing a ten-scroll essay for Binns on the Spanish Inquisition.  
  
"As to your gift this year: we are giving you something you cannot yet have. These last few weeks we have sent numerous owls to your Madam Hooch and Headmaster Dumbledore. They both assured us that what we wanted to do is highly irregular, but they both also had to admit that your abilities as a flier could not be denied.  
  
Madam Hooch tells us that you have done all of your training on a used Comet 260, and that you and the broom seem to bring out the best in each other. Continue using that broom and, when your First Year is over, the broom shall be yours."  
  
Cho couldn't help it; she shrieked with joy. She re-read the paragraph, clutching the letter as tightly as if it were the broom.  
  
Raisa poked her head through the curtains. "Are you all right?"  
  
Cho rushed over to Raisa's bed. "It's wonderful! A broom! I'm getting my own broom!"  
  
"But you're a First-Year."  
  
"I don't get to keep it until the year is up, but it's going to be mine! Really mine!"  
  
"Congratulations!" Raisa beamed, before ducking her head back behind the bed-curtains.  
  
Cho practically bounced back to her bed, then realized she hadn't finished reading the letter:  
  
"Of course, we don't have to tell you that a great deal of responsibility comes with owning one's own broom. We consider you mature enough to shoulder the responsibility, to fly properly and safely, to provide proper maintenance et cetera. Toward that end, we have enclosed a few other trifling gifts. However, as your parents, we still must reserve the right to call you to account if you grow reckless or neglectful of your broom."  
  
That was her mother exactly, Cho sighed. The only person on earth who could give you a gift and slap you with it at the same time. She unwrapped the other gifts from home, finding a broom maintenance kit and several books on Quidditch, including (Cho had to laugh out loud) "The Broom Gets All the Credit."  
  
xxx  
  
Christmas Dinner was a wonder at Hogwarts. The food was marvelous and never-ending, the company was magical and entertaining. Professor Flitwick was even more giddy than usual. One of Cho's Christmas crackers exploded in a silent cloud of swallows, who fluttered about the dozen massive decorated trees throughout the Great Hall. Another popped open to reveal a magnificent lacquered hair-comb.  
  
When she got back to her dormitory, hours after the banquet had begun, she set her gifts down on her trunk with the others. She had eaten carefully, sampling everything but gorging on nothing (well, only one or two things). She had to make allowances for her final present, which she could only use the next day. Excitedly she re-read the letter for the tenth time:  
  
"Now that you have your broom and all this time over the holidays, it would be a shame not to put both to good use. Please wait until Boxing Day to use what's in the box, and bear in mind that the entire Ravenclaw team has elected to stay for the holidays. Be sure to set a good example to the boys and don't keep all the equipment for yourself. I'm spending the holiday in Majorca, but I expect to see some progress when I get back in the New Year.  
  
Hooch"  
  
In the box were two keys. She recognized them both-one was to Hooch's office, the other to the Quidditch equipment.  
  
xxx  
  
Snow started falling before dawn on the 26th and was still falling after the noon hour. Roger Davies and Mackie Culligan, who had seen Cho Chang at the Christmas dinner but sat with the team, didn't see Cho at lunch, and were glad not to be bothered with her any more than necessary.  
  
As they walked to the Quidditch Stadium a little past one, they realized that the wind had picked up and the snow was falling harder.  
  
"No practicing in this weather," Culligan sighed. "Let's go back an' tell the lads."  
  
"Hold up!" Roger's eye had caught that the door to Madam Hooch's office was slightly ajar. He ran in to investigate-or ran as fast as the drifts would let him. A few minutes later he came back to Culligan. "We've been robbed! The Quidditch."  
  
Mackie held up a hand to silence him, then pointed Roger toward the Astronomy Tower.  
  
They could see a small lone witch flying patterns around the tower.  
  
"Your thief, I think."  
  
"What's she playing at?!"  
  
"I think it's called Quidditch," Mackie answered drily.  
  
"In all of this?! She's mad!"  
  
"She'll be happy to hear you tell her. Off with you, then, boyo."  
  
"Mackie! I don't want to deal with her."  
  
"Well, somebody has to and it's my decision who, innit?"  
  
"Do I have to bring it all back here?"  
  
"No; just make sure she does."  
  
So Roger Davies made his way through the snow back to Hogwarts, then all the way up to the Astronomy Tower. He was fairly winded when he opened the hatch to the tower's platform. There, quite literally frolicking through the air on a Comet 260, was Cho Chang. The chest of equipment was up there, and he noticed that only the Snitch was missing.  
  
"What are you doing here?!" Roger called out to her.  
  
"Practicing!"  
  
"You took the equipment!"  
  
"Madam Hooch said it was all right! Read the letter!"  
  
Roger noticed a parchment in Hooch's handwriting, allowing Cho to use the equipment on Boxing Day. "You'll put it all back, though?"  
  
"When I'm done!"  
  
"And when is that?"  
  
"In another hour."  
  
"How long have you been up here?"  
  
"Since ten!"  
  
"You mean you've been out here three hours?!"  
  
Cho suddenly turned to the right and swiped her hand through seemingly empty air. When she landed on the platform, it was with the Golden Snitch in her hand. "Sorry; lost track of the time."  
  
"Why are you doing all this?"  
  
Cho ran to the edge of the tower and climbed onto the parapet. She straddled her broom, threw the Snitch straight up as hard as she could, and joyfully yelled back over the wind to Roger: "BECAUSE I'M GOING TO BE A SEEKER!" Then she stepped off of the parapet, allowing the updraft to carry her toward the Snitch.  
  
Roger simply shook his head as he went down the steps back to Hogwarts. "Or maybe," he said to himself, "you'll catch pneumonia out there and save the rest of us a lot of trouble."  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 10, wherein Peeves plays a very rude trick, Cho sings a very moving song, and Professor Quirrell teaches a very important lesson. 


	10. Happy New Year

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
10. Happy New Year  
  
When Cho opened the curtains to her bed on the morning of December 29, sun was pouring in through the window. The world outside was white with snow and cold as ice, but none of that could get into the dormitory room at Hogwarts. The room was properly heated by the stove, and a fine breakfast waited in the Great Hall, as usual.  
  
She felt happy, yet a bit-unsettled. Something was tugging at her mind for attention, but she couldn't begin to figure out what it might be. She glanced over at Raisa's bed; the curtains were still drawn.  
  
I could go down to breakfast with my robes on over my nightdress, she thought. It's the holidays; who would ever know. And at that moment, a strange idea pounced into Cho's head and wouldn't leave. The more she tried to analyze it away, the stronger it stuck. She tried to reject it without reason, yet still it refused to budge. Finally Cho, covering her mouth to stifle her giggling, decided to give in to the idea.  
  
She jumped back into bed and pulled the curtains to, just in case Raisa awoke. The whole point, smirked the idea in her head, is that you'll be the only one to know. So Cho pulled her nightgown over her head, pulled off her underpants and put on her robes. She then opened the curtains again, and stepped onto the floor. She put on her slippers, since the stone floors of Hogwarts would hardly be as warm as the dormitory, and went downstairs.  
  
She didn't meet anyone on her way down to the Common Room, although there were a few other girls staying in Ravenclaw for the holidays. The Common Room itself was also empty, except for "Jinx" Jenkins, one of the Ravenclaw Beaters. He had apparently been reading up on Divination; a book on the old Roman practice of reading bird entrails, titled "Guts Are Your Friends", was tented over his snoring face. He was flat on his back on the daybed, with his robes open revealing a bulge in his trousers that could have been one thing only. Cho looked at that bulge for the better part of a minute, not thinking anything in particular-her mind, in fact, had almost gone blank. Finally, she turned and dashed through the bookcase, up the steps and out into the corridor.  
  
Once there, she literally started dancing her way through the castle to the Great Hall. She leapt and spun and paced her way, flourishing the hems of her robe up as high as her knees-and sometimes higher. There was nobody to see anything in any case, but as she danced she could feel nothing but a strange indefinable excitement. She knew that, somehow, she was walking along the border of a part of the grown-up world where she was not yet allowed. On the other side of the border were glances that took the place of words, secret meetings, words that seemed to have two meanings, touches that nobody else was allowed to know, muffled cries and laughs and sobs mixed together in a stew of emotions. And naked bodies; whatever happened on the other side of the border (and until now Cho had never really been interested in exactly what happened there) involved naked bodies.  
  
Yet here she was, naked under her robes, as if she were trying to sneak over the border to find out exactly what was going on in that other country.  
  
Between the Library and the Great Hall, Cho saw the Fat Friar float through the wall and into the corridor. She paused for just an instant. Could a ghost see through her robes? She doubted it, and waved.  
  
The Fat Friar waved back. "Good morning, my dear," he called to her, "and isn't it a lovely." His words were cut off as if by scissors, as he stopped and stared at Cho, his face filled with horror and disgust. It took him a few seconds to find his voice: "Oh, that's terrible! I'm going to report you; just see if I don't!" The ghost turned and ran through the wall the way he had come.  
  
Maybe ghosts CAN see through clothes, she thought, as she looked down at her robes. And there, sticking through her robes at about stomach-level, was Peeves the Poltergeist, looking up into Cho's face, his tongue lolling obscenely out of his open mouth.  
  
"GET OUT OF IT! SHOO! YOU FILTHY THING!" Cho swatted at Peeves, which did no good, but he passed through her body, giggling like a maniac as he passed through the high ceiling of the hallway.  
  
All of Cho's daring and curiosity and giddiness evaporated after that encounter with Peeves. She ran back to Ravenclaw, jumped back into bed and drew the curtain, not physically tired but trembling from nervousness. After a few minutes, she pulled herself together, got dressed properly and went down to breakfast.  
  
It would be about a year before Cho would again have reason to be curious about what lay across that border.  
  
xxx  
  
Hogwarts didn't recognize New Year's Eve as a holiday, but Ravenclaw certainly did. On that last day of 1990, the Quidditch team members broke open their hidden supply of butterbeer, brought back from Hogsmeade trips especially for this night. Even Cho and Raisa were made to feel welcome and (once they were sure nothing in butterbeer conflicted with Raisa's religion) the two First-Year girls drank as freely as the older boys.  
  
Most of the talk was about Quidditch. Cho kept silent as the team debated the merits of one model broom over another. They kept arguing over the loss to Slytherin, with nobody objecting as Cho pointed out precisely when Culligan missed easy chances at the Snitch. They all took it in turns making fun of Seagoon's way of announcing a match, and were glad that, being a Seventh-Year, he was almost out of Hogwarts.  
  
"What's he going to do after, has anybody heard?" Culligan asked. Raisa started giggling again; as the evening wore on, she found herself giggling every time Culligan spoke. She'd never heard anything like his Welsh accent, and wasn't prepared for the way it made her feel.  
  
"I know his father works for the World Wizarding Network," Erasmus Skiddle said. "You think he'd line something up for his son?"  
  
"Yeah," Roger put in, "tea-boy." They all laughed, except Cho. She never found humour in making fun of someone else. And it may have been her imagination, but when she caught Roger Davies' eye, he stopped laughing too.  
  
As it drew closer to midnight, Raisa had to excuse herself from the party; she could barely stay awake long enough to make her apologies. Cho, however, was as wide-awake as the others. She felt that she had to be; that this was part of the testing she would have to undergo to be found worthy of being on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.  
  
So it was that, when talk came to what people hoped for in the next year, all Cho said was, "Everyone here knows what I want." This actually seemed to carry more weight than if she had argued with the team about keeping girls off. They didn't say anything in response.  
  
The conversation went on until a minute before midnight, when Roger Davies glanced at his watch. "Mackie, it's time Mister Burns put in an appearance."  
  
The Chang family had never celebrated any but the Chinese New Year. Although they sometimes went out to parties on 31 December, Cho had stayed at home and her parents returned before midnight. So what happened next took Cho completely by surprise: Everyone rose, as if on cue, and formed a circle. Cho rushed to be part of the circle, then found that she had to cross her arms over her chest, holding the hands of the people next to her. She found herself between Roger Davies and "Jinx" Jenkins.  
  
Confusion must have been obvious on her face. Roger looked at her-the first time she could remember him doing so without suspicion or condescension. "It's an old way of seeing the old year out. Wizards and Muggles both do it." He stopped when Culligan started to sing, in a clear, pure baritone voice:  
  
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot,  
  
And never brought to mind?  
  
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,  
  
And auld lang syne!"  
  
The other voices seemed to explode into the room at the chorus:  
  
"For auld lang syne, my dear,  
  
For auld lang syne.  
  
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,  
  
For auld lang syne."  
  
Culligan took up the next verse, with Davies doubling an octave higher. Cho listened breathlessly; the sound was nothing less than magical:  
  
"And surely ye'll be your pint stowp!  
  
And surely I'll be mine!  
  
And we'll tak a cup o'kindness yet,  
  
For auld lang syne."  
  
Cho was so caught up in their voices that she wasn't ready for everyone to come back in with the chorus; but, since she still didn't know it, she listened, and kept listening as the Quidditch Co-Captains sang the third verse:  
  
"We twa hae run about the braes,  
  
And pou'd the gowans fine;  
  
But we've wander'd mony a weary fit,  
  
Sin' auld lang syne."  
  
She joined in the third chorus, a little shaky, a little off-key but glad to be a part of Ravenclaw, of Hogwarts, of the whole wizarding world-  
  
"For auld lang syne, my dear,  
  
For auld lang syne.  
  
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,  
  
For auld lang syne."  
  
Her mind started asking questions during the singing of the fourth verse:  
  
"We twa hae paidl'd in the burn,  
  
Frae morning sun till dine;  
  
But seas between us braid hae roar'd  
  
Sin' auld lang syne."  
  
Why are we singing about old times? What old times could we have had? The oldest here isn't more than sixteen. So what were the old times?  
  
The answer hit her like a thunderbolt: these are the old times-or they will be. Someday, when our youth is gone, when children have grown and loved ones are dead and dear old friends have vanished, never to be seen again, will we forget them all? Or will we remember each other as we are now-young and strong and carefree?  
  
By now everyone had started in on the final verse:  
  
"And there's a hand, my trusty fere!  
  
And gie's a hand o' thine!  
  
And we'll tak a right gude-willie waught,  
  
For auld lang syne."  
  
She followed as best she could and joined in strongly on the chorus, even though tears of joy were rolling unstoppably down her cheeks. She'd never felt such a bond before-to everyone in that room at that moment, no matter what would happen to them in the future:  
  
"For auld lang syne, my dear,  
  
For auld lang syne.  
  
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,  
  
For auld lang syne."  
  
Cho couldn't help it; as soon as the grips around the circle started to loosen, she threw her arms around Roger Davies to her left and gave him a fierce hug. Her tear-streaked face shone up toward him for a second, before she broke the hug and ran up to her dorm.  
  
She didn't stay to hear the rest of the Quidditch team laughing at Roger, as he blushed seven different shades of pink.  
  
xxx  
  
All too soon, the magic of the holidays gave way to the cycle of lessons and (in Cho's case) lessons from Madam Hooch, broken only by a few highlights.  
  
On 27 January, Cho turned twelve years old, and the girls in her year surprised her by giving her a knit scarf with moving designs of galloping horses on it. They had learned that Cho was born in a Year of the Horse, and it was coming around again. For Cho, this meant a year of good fortune and monumental change-and she would be right in ways she could not yet guess.  
  
Also in January came an odd lesson in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Quirrell seemed both more distracted than usual and more exhausted, as if he was fighting a losing battle. At one point, he posed a question to Cho:  
  
[A/N: the reader must forgive me if I leave Quirrell's stammer to the imagination, rather than inflict it again on the eye.]  
  
"Miss Chang, what are the three temptations most often offered to Muggles by practitioners of the Dark Arts?"  
  
"They are temptations of money, of love, and of the return of the dead."  
  
"Correct."  
  
"But sir," Cho interrupted, "what is it about bringing back the dead that attracts Muggles?"  
  
"I should have thought it was obvious, Miss Chang."  
  
"Sorry, sir, but it isn't obvious to me. I was brought up to believe in reincarnation, so that the dead are always coming back, in a manner of speaking."  
  
Quirrell smiled. "Touche, Miss Chang. Mister Grimaldi, explain why return from the dead should be a temptation."  
  
"Because it's just impossible, isn't it? Once you're dead, you're dead."  
  
"But dark wizards have brought the dead back to life on occasion," Libby Foggly pointed out.  
  
"You're both right, as it happens. Death is final, yet dark wizards have revitalized the dead. Can you explain the paradox, Miss Foggly?"  
  
"Either it was a hoax, or there was still some spark of life in the corpse."  
  
"Excellent answer. There is still a spark. That spark will have to be enough, impossible as it may seem." The class looked at each other in curiosity; Quirrell seemed to have forgotten about them. "I know there's little enough time, but we have to wait. There is still enough time." As suddenly as he entered his trance, Quirrell awoke from it, and apparently didn't realize what had happened. "Miss Nugginbridge, how do the temptations offered to a wizard differ from those offered to a Muggle?"  
  
Nobody in the class knew what to make of Quirrell after that.  
  
xxx  
  
continued in part 11, wherein Cho comes home for the summer to a marvelous surprise 


	11. Some Changes

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
11. Some Changes  
  
The rest of the first year for Cho and her mates was mostly slow and predictable, although there were a few breaks in the routine. There was the weekend that Krixlow and Grimaldi, claiming it was "homework" for Flitwick's Charms class, blew up Jan Nugginbridge's cat Coriander-puffing it up until it was round as a globe. The whole of Ravenclaw House heard the terrified yowling and came to see the cat bobbing along the ceiling of the Common Room. The two might even have gotten away with it, except that they started laughing.  
  
Jan wasn't in the mood to hear excuses, and was ready to either hex the two boys or throw a couple of weighty books at them. At this point Penny Clearwater performed the counter-charm and brought the terrified cat back down to the ground; it immediately ran up to the dormitory and hid under Jan's bed, and wouldn't come out for three days. It took that long before Jan would even speak to the two jokers again.  
  
They were probably trying to relieve some of the pressure of their studies. Being Sorted into Ravenclaw, Cho realized, didn't mean that they would find their schoolwork easy; only that they could find it enjoyable to spend hours in the library poring through old books. In any case, they had to do that on a fairly regular basis.  
  
Some of the courses were practical and didn't involve writing lengthy essays. Actually, there was some writing in Potions, but it was strictly punitive. Snape had come in one Spring morning particularly upset that someone had stolen a large quantity of ginseng root from his private stores. (It later turned out that the Weasley twins were using it for barter with older students who were up late studying for their O.W.L.s, but Snape never figured that out.) The First-Year Ravenclaws all had to write a five-scroll essay on the history and properties of ginseng. (It was a doddle for Cho, coming from a family that had used ginseng as a restorative for generations.) They all turned the essays in to Snape, and that was the last any of them heard on the subject. They suspected that Snape had simply thrown them into a fire or something and that the essays didn't change their grades at all, but they couldn't prove it.  
  
There was also Quidditch. Cho went in to watch the first game of the new year-Slytherin versus Hufflepuff in early spring-with a knot in her stomach. She knew that it would be a massacre, and it was. Slytherin seemed to go out of its way to foul as many of the Hufflepuff players as it could. The play got so rough that Hufflepuff lost their regular Seeker, Archie Chase-Sanborn, and they had to play their reserve-a Third-Year named Cedric Diggory. He was small, skinny and frightened of the play, so that he spent his debut match flying high to avoid Bludgers and other hazards rather than looking for the Snitch-which, of course, Slytherin captured.  
  
Two weeks later, Ravenclaw went up against Gryffindor, to see who would have the honour of losing the Cup to Slytherin. Cho suspected that Culligan and Davies told the Ravenclaw team to hold back, to play less aggressively than they could. It didn't matter in the end; Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw, only to be beaten in turn for the Cup by Slytherin.  
  
"How has it come to this?" Cho demanded of Madam Hooch the Saturday following Ravenclaw's loss to Gryffindor. "Why do we bother playing at all?"  
  
"It's not as bad as it seems, Cho. Truth is, I've seen it much worse. During the last war, I saw Montrose play at Falmouth, and one of the Falcons enchanted the Montrose robes, so that Japanese writing appeared on them. Nobody knew what it said, but it was all one with the crowd; they started pelting the Magpies with all sorts of rubbish."  
  
"You're joking!"  
  
"Wish I were. But these things come and go in cycles. Just wait until next year; Flint and his crew may actually have to play a match," Hooch smiled and winked at Cho.  
  
Cho nodded, but didn't say anything. After the holidays, Culligan and Davies went right back to snubbing Cho, pretending not to hear if she ever made a comment about Quidditch in the Common Room or the Great Hall. She was beginning to think that they'd refuse to let her on next year, no matter how well she played.  
  
At the end of their final lesson, and an exam that was the simplest of the year for Cho, Madam Hooch smiled at Cho. "Well, I've taught you all that I can. Now comes the hard part: making it all work for you on your own. I can't be in the game with you, or in your House with the team Co-Captains, but I'm sure that you can hold your own now. So, back to the castle with you." Hooch's smile grew broader as she added, "And take your broom with you."  
  
Cho had been waiting for this moment since Christmas. She fought back the urge to hug Madam Hooch; instead, with a beaming smile, she turned and ran back to Hogwarts, clutching the Comet 260.  
  
Her Comet 260.  
  
xxx  
  
She almost brought the broom into the Great Hall with her for the end-of- year feast. As it was, though, she was one of the few bright spots in the otherwise gloomy Ravenclaw table, having to sit once again in a hall decorated in the green and silver of Slytherin House. And her mood seemed to be infectious. The more she asked others about their summer plans, and the more she talked about their chances for next year's Cup, the more optimistic the mood at the table became.  
  
Her mood stayed bright even as the annual warning notes were handed out the night before they were to leave:  
  
"Students are reminded that, per regulations from the Improper Use of Magic Office of the Ministry of Magic, they are not to use any of the Charms, Spells, Potions or other magical items, devices or techniques learned at Hogwarts while they are at home or elsewhere on vacation. These regulations will be enforced through the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, and any misuse of magic will be dealt with accordingly.  
  
Mafalda Hopkirk, Assistant Director"  
  
"Don' let it scare yeh," Jan said to the dorm mates that night as they packed most of their belongings and made ready for bed. "Ever'body slips up once er twice. I set a spell off the day I got me Hogwarts letter, an' all the pictures on all the walls started ter change rooms. No one said nary a word, but I was terrified fer a week they'd drag me off in irons."  
  
"Then why send out notices at all?" Letitia asked.  
  
"A practice more honoured in the breach than in the observance," Linda Fairweather added.  
  
"Nah," Jan replied, "I think it's just ter tell us not teh go too far over the line. Think what Krixlow'd do at home if he had the chance."  
  
The others chuckled; Cho kept packing.  
  
"That means you, too, Cho," Letitia said. "No dive-bombing Muggles in Trafalgar Square." They laughed.  
  
"On even days," added Raisa; the laughter continued.  
  
When Cho showed up with the Comet in hand, a couple of the girls had jealous thoughts, but they were all swept aside. This broom wasn't just a gift: Cho had earned it, by working harder at flying than anyone in their year. When they referred to her as "Hooch's favorite", it wasn't an insult. It was a tribute to Cho's talent for flying and the hard work she put into improving on it.  
  
What the others left unsaid was the fear that Cho was living in a fool's paradise. There was no chance that she'd be let on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team in the fall.  
  
xxx  
  
When the Express pulled into King's Cross station, some of the more enthusiastic children just barged through the barrier, heedless of whether any Muggles might be on the platform. Usually, a parent was there to slow them down and remind them to keep a low profile.  
  
Cho was met on the platform by her father. He was meticulously dressed in a dark grey pinstripe suit, with matching bowler hat and umbrella. The only thing that might have given him away was the way his cufflinks, designed to look like dragon's eyes, kept scanning the crowd for anything dangerous. He had grown up in a dangerous world, and had never lost the instinct to be on his guard, even in Diagon Alley.  
  
He silently helped Cho wheel the cart with her bags and empty cage-Quan Yin had flown home the night before. Cho tried to manage everything one- handed; the other hand was still wrapped around her broom.  
  
Chang Xiemin stayed silent for most of the drive home, taking a Muggle taxicab from King's Cross to the Leaky Cauldron. He also stayed silent for the first two weeks of the summer holiday.  
  
During that time, Cho was out of the house every day at dawn-which may have come far too early for her fellow students but couldn't come soon enough for her. In the still and early hours before the shops opened, Cho could be seen tearing up one end of Diagon Alley and down the other, almost stubbing her toes on the cobblestones before she wove in and out of the pillars of Gringotts, down to the very edge of Knockturn Alley, and back again. She flew no higher than the rooftops of Diagon Alley, but these were just speed sprints. Anyone could see that she wanted to do more, to push herself and her new broom even harder.  
  
So it was that, two weeks into the holiday, Cho's father rose from the breakfast table and beckoned for Cho to follow him. Together they stepped out into the small back yard.  
  
"I couldn't help but notice that you've been flying all up and down the street every day since you've been back. You've been careful to do it early mornings and late evenings, when the shops are closed and there's nobody about, but I'm still under the impression that you want to do more."  
  
Cho didn't know where this was going. "Sorry, Daddy. I'm afraid I rather got used to flying in a stadium."  
  
"No need to apologize. There haven't been any complaints. But there is a problem, and I've taken a step to correct it."  
  
From under his robes he drew a small box. He opened it to reveal a model of a broomstick. About the size of Cho's hand, it was made of highly polished brass that shone like a torch in a dark tunnel.  
  
"We should touch this at the same time," her father said.  
  
They touched it.  
  
Immediately, Cho felt a jolt as if she were on a broom herself and had just been hit with a powerful crosswind. She was no longer in their yard, but things hadn't yet settled down.  
  
When they did, she saw a wide expanse of green grass, with three hoops atop fifty-foot poles at either end. They were in a Quidditch stadium. Above the top box flew a flag of blue with two crossed golden bulrushes.  
  
"In my business dealings," her father was saying, "one meets all sorts of people. I met the business manager for Puddlemere United, and he was telling me that, most days, the stadium is completely empty. Seemed a bit of a waste, especially since you need someplace larger to practice."  
  
He stopped speaking for the moment as Cho threw her arms around him. He waited a minute before pulling her off of him.  
  
"Now, you must keep your part of the bargain. Any chores that need to be done must be done before you can practice. If we need you to mind the shop, that always takes precedence. You're not to use this Portkey to sneak in to watch a match for free; a Chang always pays his own way and always walks proudly through the front door. I have a list of the game days and practice sessions here. If you come during practice, you are expected to keep out of the way and not bother the players with too many questions. These are professionals, after all, and I suppose it's time you learned to act like one."  
  
Cho couldn't believe it. Use of a professional Quidditch stadium for the summer!  
  
Before she could say anything, her father-who embarrassed easily-held up his hand. "We should get back now," he said. They touched the Portkey, and once again the stadium was empty.  
  
xxx  
  
continued in part 12, wherein the train to Hogwarts is abuzz with some exciting news. 


	12. Her Second Year

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
12. Her Second Year  
  
It was with a heart as light and free as a released Snitch that Cho Chang made her way toward the barrier at King's Cross on 1 September, 1991. She couldn't imagine how her second year at Hogwarts could possibly be better than her first. No, that was wrong; she could imagine it very clearly. She had spent most of the summer holidays imagining.  
  
First would be the tryout for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Sometimes she dismissed it as a formality; surely Roger Davies and Macarthur "Mackie" Culligan could see her flying abilities. They'd put her on the Reserve list at the very least, replacing Dimsdale, whose flying was a joke at best. They might even let her play a pushover team like Hufflepuff, just to get her toe in the water. And maybe that was all for this year; Culligan was still Ravenclaw Seeker. But he was Seventh-Year; this would be his last chance. Next year, she'd really shine. Would Marcus Flint and Terrence Higgs still be playing for Slytherin when she was Third-Year? That was her real aim: to show those overbearing bullies and cheaters in Slytherin how the game should really be played. She'd outfly them all, up one side of the stadium and down the other, and with the Snitch in her hand she'd circle the stadium while the crowd shouted out her name-  
  
"CHO! WAKE UP!"  
  
She'd closed her eyes, pushing the luggage cart, and almost ran it into the barrier between platforms 5 and 6. Her face burning Gryffindor crimson, she rushed back to Amanda Lightfoot, who'd called to her.  
  
"Can't have forgotten the way, can you?" she asked in all seriousness.  
  
"Sorry," Cho muttered. "I was thinking about . something else."  
  
"Ah. What's his name, then?"  
  
"It wasn't a boy!" Once she said it, Cho wished she hadn't been so quick to answer; she found the truth more embarrassing. "I was thinking about Quidditch."  
  
Whether or not she believed Cho, Amanda nodded. "Any case, you still look like you need help staying out of trouble."  
  
"I'm fine," Cho insisted. "How was your summer?"  
  
"Deadly," Amanda sighed. "My folks didn't like my Levels at all; I've got to bring up all my O.W.L.s this year. Otherwise, they say I'll never get to intern at St. Mungo's when I leave Hogwarts."  
  
"What would you do instead?"  
  
"I don't like to think about it. Probably something awful in the Ministry having to do with Potion Analysis."  
  
They found an empty compartment and settled in. A minute later, Raina al- Qaba and Libby Foggly joined them. Cho was glad to see the change in Raina. The year before, she had mostly kept nervously to herself, seldom speaking. Now, as if she had never had friends before Hogwarts, she smiled warmly and openly, her olive eyes flashing as she told of cousins who had spent the summer in London, bringing many magical souvenirs from Iran.  
  
They kept talking even as the Hogwarts Express lurched forward and started the long journey north. But they hadn't been out of King's Cross for five minutes before Diana Fairweather, with her cat Pillarbox in her arms, burst breathlessly into the compartment.  
  
"What's all this, then?" Amanda asked.  
  
Diana sat down on a suitcase on the compartment floor. She was as out of breath as a marathon runner. At first, she just kept repeating, "Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh."  
  
Libby had to grab the other girl's shoulders. "Diana, what's wrong?"  
  
Diana took a deep breath. "He's . here. He's . on the train, and he's . here!"  
  
"Who?" the others asked at once.  
  
"Harry Potter!"  
  
The others stared in disbelief. It took a second for Cho to make the connection, but then, her parents had only ever spoken of him as "Ha Li Po Te." And when Cho was very young, her parents spoke of almost nothing but Ha Li Po Te.  
  
Cho remembered just a few nights earlier, she had gotten in some practice in Puddlemere, and had walked into the house while her parents were entertaining Mister and Missus Tan, another prominent Chinese family who had arrived in London about the same time as Cho's parents. Before she went to clean up for dinner, she lingered at the study door.  
  
"We all rather jumped from the frying pan into the fire, as they say," Mr. Tan chuckled. "I mean, if I'd known the Dark Lord was here."  
  
"Even so," Cho's mother spoke up, "it was time to leave. I'd never seen China so unsettled."  
  
"We were all pretty anxious those first few years," Cho's father said. "But then came Ha Li Po Te. Imagine: whole armies fell before the Dark Lord, yet he gets bested by an infant! Practically a babe in arms!"  
  
"Has anyone heard of him after that?" asked Cho's mother.  
  
"The ones who know aren't telling," Mr. Tan said.  
  
And that was the last time Cho had given any thought to The Hero Who Vanquished the Dark Lord. But now to find out that he was somewhere on the Hogwarts Express.!  
  
"Come on, then," Libby nudged Diana. "What's he look like?"  
  
"Oh, um, black hair, that goes every which way. Very green eyes, but he wears glasses so you can't see 'em proper. I thought he was a bit short."  
  
"Who's short?" Giulio Grimaldi and Vincent Krixlow had just opened the compartment door. Vincent was sucking on a Peppermint Fizzgig while Giulio spoke.  
  
"It's." Diana's voice dropped, as if it were somehow wrong to say the name. "Harry Potter."  
  
"Hear that?" Giulio asked Vincent. "Harry Potty's on the train!"  
  
The girls looked shocked; even the Second-Years, who knew what these two jokers were capable of doing. Vincent merely shifted the Fizzgig into one cheek as he said, "Yeh, I seen 'im."  
  
"WHERE?" the girls asked in chorus.  
  
"Two cars down," Vincent shrugged. "He's sitting with a Weasley."  
  
"Percy or the twins?" Amanda asked.  
  
"Neither; another one. First-Year, from the looks."  
  
"Cripes, another one?" Grimaldi blurted out. "That makes four at Hogwarts now!"  
  
"And you never met the older brothers," Amanda added. "Charlie was a wicked Quidditch player, but he decided he'd rather spend time with dragons. Then there's Bill." They all could see a light go on in Amanda's eyes as she recalled him. "A real heartbreaker, that one." After a few seconds reverie, she came back to the compartment. "I understand he works for Gringotts in the Sudan or some such forsaken place."  
  
"And that's not all," Vincent added. "I saw 'em on the platform with a little girl in tow. Figure she'll be here next year."  
  
"We might have to start a fifth House," Amanda said, "just for the Weasleys."  
  
"I'll bet their parents are Animagi," Giulio said.  
  
"What animal?" Amanda asked, before the other girls could stop her.  
  
"Rabbits, of course," Grimaldi replied. "I mean, at least seven kids, somebody's been doing some serious shagging, ain't they?"  
  
Just at that moment, the hag with the snacks car showed up, caught what Giulio was saying, and blushed like a sunset.  
  
xxx  
  
As the train pulled into Hogsmeade station, Cho wished-not for the last time-that it wasn't just First-Years who arrived at the castle by boating across the lake. It was such a marvelous sight last year, when she came up on it for the first time. She thought that the thrill would somehow be diminished by riding in an ordinary carriage.  
  
She needn't have worried. She followed Hagrid's booming voice to the carriages and found that, like the boats, they were rather small, and only held four or five people. She climbed in with most of her mates, including Jan Nugginbridge, who hadn't gotten on the train until Snitter's Run, one stop before Hogsmeade.  
  
"Bit daft, innit," Jan was saying, "fer me ter go all the way ter London jus' ter come all the way back here."  
  
But Cho stopped listening and leaned her head out the carriage window as Hogwarts came into view. Even though the students were only just arriving, every light in the place seemed to be on. It wasn't just a castle; Hogwarts was its own city, a metropolis of magic, and seeing it this way- passing down a rough road and through a gate guarded by statues of two winged boars-was no less impressive than when Cho had seen it from the lake the year before.  
  
It seemed as if they had barely gotten themselves seated at the Ravenclaw table when the First-Years were brought in for the Sorting. Cho's eyes quickly scanned the group of children behind McGonagall, looking to match a face to Diana Fairweather's description. Unruly black hair, glasses, green eyes. But the students were in too tight a knot, and she couldn't see but two or three at a time.  
  
Ravenclaw picked up two of the First-Year students before the Bs were out- Boot and Brocklehurst-but it wasn't until McGonagall called out "Granger", and a girl with frizzy hair and a bit of an overbite stepped up to the hat, that Cho caught a glimpse of him. Was it.  
  
"Jordan, Lee."  
  
Black hair-but black skin, too, and brown eyes. Not Harry. But he looked like dozens of kids she'd seen in the south of London, when she and her mother had gone shopping in Brixton.  
  
"Malfoy, Draco."  
  
She heard Pablo Molina mutter, "Where did they find the ice sculpture?" Indeed, there was something glacial about the platinum-haired boy who approached the Sorting Hat as if he owned it. He clearly wasn't there to make any friends, and Cho breathed a sigh of relief when the Hat announced Malfoy for Slytherin.  
  
Two lovely dark-skinned East Indian girls-identical twins, no less-were Sorted. The first, Padma Patil, went to Ravenclaw. The table cheered loudly-until her sister Parvati was Sorted into Gryffindor. Cho wondered if there might be problems later on as a result. The only other twins she knew at Hogwarts-the Weasleys-were both in Gryffindor.  
  
"Potter, Harry."  
  
Professor McGonagall had tried to say his name as normally as all the others, but she couldn't disguise a bit of a thrill in her voice. Finally, Cho got a look at The Hero of the Wizarding World, and the first thought that ran through her mind was: "That can't be him; he's too cute!"  
  
Indeed, Harry seemed more nervous and self-conscious than any of the others had been. The Sorting Hat went on, and seconds ticked away.  
  
Ravenclaw? Cho thought. Will he be Ravenclaw? Let him be Ravenclaw. That would be such a-  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
Cho applauded dutifully, but she could tell that others at the Ravenclaw table felt what she was feeling: disappointment that Harry Potter wasn't going to be in Ravenclaw.  
  
xxx  
  
continued in part 13, wherein things just seem to get worse and worse for Cho Chang. 


	13. A Run of Bad Luck

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
13. A Run of Bad Luck  
  
Perhaps Cho wasn't the only one waiting and planning for the first day of the new term. The day after the students returned to Hogwarts, a notice was found copied and slipped under the doors of all the dormitories at Ravenclaw House. It listed all seven of Ravenclaw's regular Quidditch players and all seven of the reserves-the same roster as last year. Then, as if to emphasize the point, the following sentence: "Because there are no vacancies on the House team, there will be no tryouts this year."  
  
Cho couldn't believe it. She read and reread the notice, trying to see if she had missed something, or if there had been a trick. Then she realized: there was a trick, and it was being played on her. She dressed as quickly as she could and stormed down to the Great Hall, notice in hand.  
  
When she got there, she saw Madam Hooch just seating herself at the Head Table, in an animated discussion with the ghost of Professor Binns. Cho should have known better and waited for a break in the conversation, but, not standing on ceremony, she strode up to them, threw the letter onto Hooch's plate and said, "Look at this!"  
  
The flight instructor's gold eyes ran over the document. "Begging your pardon, Professor," she muttered to the ghost; then, she grabbed at the letter and left the table, motioning for Cho to follow.  
  
Hooch led Cho to an empty classroom just off of the Great Hall. As soon as she closed the door, she turned on Cho. "That was very rude of you just now. You don't show such disrespect to a teacher, even if he is a ghost. I ought to take points, but you're upset and I can see why ."  
  
"Sorry," muttered Cho, who didn't sound sorry at all, "but what about that?!"  
  
Hooch shook her head. "This is the first I've heard of it. I didn't think they'd try something like this, but-believe me, Cho, I'm sorry-I don't think there's anything you can do about this."  
  
"But," Cho started sputtering, "but you told me, and after last year, I worked so hard."  
  
Hooch held up a hand. "I know, dear, and I'll check this out. But if, in fact, all of the players have returned from last year, there isn't much I can do about that. I can't force anyone to start a second reserve list."  
  
"Can't you take it up with . with SOMEONE!"  
  
"Well, I'm not going to take this to the Headmaster, if that's what you mean. I'm supposed to sort these things out so that he doesn't have to worry about them. I don't have any authority over Culligan and Davies except on the pitch. I could ask Professor Flitwick to talk to them, but, well, I hate to speak ill of a colleague, but he's not exactly forceful. He'd probably go along with whatever they told him."  
  
A look of disbelief crept over Cho's face. This was just impossible.  
  
Hooch put a hand on Cho's shoulder. "Listen to me. Don't do anything rash; just bide your time for now. It's still two months until the first match, and things could well change."  
  
Cho looked skeptical, but nodded her head in agreement.  
  
xxx  
  
Things did change, but not in the way Hooch had anticipated.  
  
Cho didn't do anything in the first week of her Second Year except go to class. Her only new course, Herbology, wasn't hard in any case, since she'd grown up around herbs and magical plants her whole life. There were some plants in the family shop in Diagon Alley that had never been seen in the Hogwarts greenhouses-and vice versa, of course.  
  
In that first week, Cho and her year, along with the Second-Year Slytherins, were repotting mandragora. Cho had been handling this very dangerous and potent plant since she was six years old, and carried out her assignments with practiced ease. It's just as well, since her mind was still on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.  
  
It was after dinner on Thursday of the second week that Cho, whose stomach had been out of sorts since her return to school, left the table early and started toward Ravenclaw. Just as she left the Great Hall, however, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Madam Hooch had intercepted her.  
  
All Hooch said was, "Follow me."  
  
They went back to the empty classroom where they had spoken a week earlier. "Cho," Hooch said, with a decidedly embarrassed look on her face, "I wanted to be sure you were all right if you'd already heard the news."  
  
"What news?"  
  
"You haven't heard, then. Well, there's no easy way to say this, but things have changed. They're letting a First-Year play Quidditch: Harry Potter."  
  
For one brief moment, Cho looked angry enough to tear a very large chunk out of the castle wall. But she calmed herself enough to ask, "How did THIS happen?"  
  
"It happened when I wasn't there, I promise you; otherwise, I'd have said something. It was a flying lesson for First-Years from Gryffindor and Slytherin. One of the Gryffindor boys was thrown from a wild broom, and broke his wrist. While I was taking him to the hospital wing, well, something happened. As near as I can make out, there was an argument between Potter and one of the Slytherins. Draco Malfoy, he was; son of a member of the Board of Governors, and a real piece of work by all accounts. He'd stolen something from the boy who was hurt, Harry was trying to get it back, and before anyone notices it, the two of them are chasing each other on brooms. Malfoy tries to destroy the thingie, and Potter rescues it, but Professor McGonagall sees it all. She drags Potter off, and the next thing anyone knows, he, well, I'm so sorry, Cho, he's a Seeker."  
  
A First-Year Seeker, in a school where First-Years weren't allowed to play Quidditch at all. Cho now felt as if that chunk of castle wall was in her stomach. "There must be something we can do now, some way for Ravenclaw to open up the team. It's just so UNFAIR!"  
  
"You're right there," Hooch sighed. "It wouldn't have happened if it weren't for McGonagall. She doesn't just teach Transfiguration; she's Assistant Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House. Seems to me she shouldn't have been allowed to wear two hats at once. Well, that's all one. Please, Cho, sit tight for a few more days and don't do anything rash. I promise to sort it all out."  
  
She may have tried, but nothing changed at Hogwarts. One morning a week later, during the day's mail delivery, a large owl carried in a package whose odd shape proclaimed it a broom despite the wrappings. The owl dropped the parcel on the Gryffindor table, right in front of Harry Potter.  
  
So, Potter the First-Year gets his very own broom, Cho thought. I couldn't get on a team at all in my First-Year, and he gets on. I had to wait until the end of my First-Year to get a broom, and he gets one sent to him, so all the world could see.  
  
But the surprises weren't over. That evening, Cho didn't go in to dinner at all. Her stomach was in as bad a shape as it had been for the past month. She'd never felt anything like this: sharp pain at most times, but mostly a dull unsettledness. She didn't want to take this one to Madam Pomfrey; she was convinced she could figure this one out on her own.  
  
During dinner, she was in the Common Room, looking through shelf after shelf for some sort of pharmacopoeia. She finally found the volume; someone must have set it on top of the day bed, and it had fallen between the day-bed and the wall. When Cho slid the day bed away from the wall, the book slid down to the floor and under the day bed. She was down on her knees behind the day bed when she heard voices. Davies and Culligan.  
  
"Really? You're sure?" Davies asked in disbelief.  
  
"This is Oliver Wood we're talking about. The lad can't keep a secret to save himself from the Dark Lord; he can barely keep water in a bottle. All I had to do was hang about him long enough."  
  
"So Potter's going to be a Seeker, and he's got a Two Thousand."  
  
"It may go no further than that, you know."  
  
"They say he put on quite a show the other day. I'd worry if I were a Seeker."  
  
"Haven't you heard his story, then, boyo?"  
  
"What story?"  
  
"Seems that, after the tyke's run-in with the Dark Lord, Dumbledore was afraid that there might be a few fanatical Death Eaters around wanting to try their hand at Harry Potter. You know, to finish up what their master had started. So Dumbledore hides the babe with some Muggle relatives on his mother's side; complete and total Muggles who didn't know magic and didn't want to know it. Potter only found out he was a wizard this summer."  
  
"Pull the other one!"  
  
"S'truth, and he'd never heard of Quidditch before last week."  
  
"So you think this innate talent of his."  
  
"That's one thing, but actually proving yourself on the pitch is quite another."  
  
Cho listened, fascinated, from her hiding place behind the day bed. She heard them walk toward the steps to their dormitory. Just as they started up, Culligan spoke again: "Makes me wish we had a reserve Seeker, though."  
  
"You don't think Dimsdale can handle it?"  
  
"Only if we play Quidditch on paper; you know that."  
  
"Surely you can handle Potter?"  
  
By now their voices were fading away; Cho caught Culligan saying something like "wait and see." Then they were gone.  
  
This was it; this was all she needed. Hooch had told Cho to wait; this was what she was waiting for. They had admitted, if only to themselves, that Dimsdale was a sham; that Ravenclaw really didn't have a reserve Seeker.  
  
She had a chance.  
  
xxx  
  
The next day was Saturday. Cho was up before six, before the sun. She didn't stop for breakfast; she dressed, grabbed her broom and started toward the stadium. She noticed that her unsettled stomach seemed to get better and better with each step.  
  
The sky was just beginning to lighten when she mounted her broom and took off. In that moment, she realized why her stomach was upset. She'd flown almost daily for a year now, but hadn't touched her broom since the day she got back to Hogwarts. It was the most important part of her life, and she had simply put it on the shelf when the notice came saying that there would be no tryouts.  
  
Cho giddily cursed herself for a fool as she weaved in and out of the goalposts; did she really think that she could just walk away from flying and not feel any consequences? But that was over now. She was back on her Comet 260, which she wouldn't trade for anything, even Harry Potter's top- of-the-line Nimbus Two Thousand.  
  
"OY! UP THERE!"  
  
Someone was calling to Cho. She looked down at the base of the goalposts, where she could see the Ravenclaw Quidditch team gathering for practice.  
  
Perfect.  
  
She dropped down, but rather than dismount, she hovered about a foot above their heads.  
  
Roger Davies spoke up: "We've got practice here; clear out."  
  
Cho considered this fort a second, then smiled prettily: "Shan't."  
  
Culligan asked, "And what makes you think you can stop us?"  
  
"Oh, I don't want to stop you using the field. But I'll play you for it."  
  
It was as if she'd lapsed into speaking Chinese; the Ravenclaw team didn't understand what she meant.  
  
"Look, I know that Ravenclaw doesn't really have a reserve Seeker. He's not even here now, is he?" The others didn't even have to look around to know she was right. Since it was all a pretense, Dimsdale hardly ever showed up for practice, and the team didn't care. "Well, I mean to become a Seeker for Ravenclaw, and if playing against the entire side is what it takes to show you I can do it, that's what I'll do."  
  
Davies took a step forward. "You'll only end up getting carried out of here."  
  
"Be that as it may, I'm staying here until you agree to my challenge."  
  
Davies started to speak again, but he turned his head as Culligan cut him: "You're on."  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 14, wherein Cho plays the first Quidditch game of her young life. 


	14. Challenge

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
14. Challenge  
  
Everyone, including Cho, stared at Macarthur Culligan in surprise. Cho hadn't expected him to give in so easily; the others hadn't expected him to give in at all.  
  
"Come down off that broom, then, so we can talk proper."  
  
Still a bit suspicious, Cho set down on the Hogwarts pitch.  
  
"We've known about you since last year, Miss Chang; you've seen to that. We know about your studying with Madam Hooch, and how you came by that Two Sixty. What we don't know is if you've ever played any matches."  
  
This took Cho aback for a second. If she answered truthfully-that she'd had a few informal practices this summer with the Puddlemere United team- nothing serious, just larking about, really-she might be seen as either bragging or trying to set herself above the House team. So she answered, "A few pickup games, nothing serious. I daresay you all started out that way."  
  
Cho had guessed well. The others glanced at each other and kept silent. Except for Roger Davies. He seemed more annoyed-indeed, angrier-than any of the others. "Since the rest of you seem afraid to bring it up, I'll ask it. Miss Chang, I daresay we all started out wanting to be stars. We learned soon enough, though, that Quidditch is a team sport. The Captain isn't here to be ignored; you have to be able to take orders, and not get yourself emotionally wrought up over nothing."  
  
Cho wasn't about to get emotionally wrought up now, when she was so close. Instead, she fixed Roger with an icy gaze and said, in a low and even voice, "Are you referring to anything in particular?"  
  
"There was the business of barricading yourself in your dorm last year."  
  
"Come off it, Rog." Everyone was surprised to see "Jinx" Jenkins pipe up. "I mean, Snape's enough to rattle anyone, much less a First-Year."  
  
Cho took over her own defense; "And since there's been no similar episode since then, I can't see why you're complaining."  
  
"I'm complaining because I've seen all too many girls your age promise over and over to concentrate on the game, and then once they get a little 'boy crazy,' that's the last I ever see of them."  
  
"No need to worry about me on that account, Mister Roger Davies. I take Quidditch much too seriously for any of that. Look, you may as well resign yourself. I am not going to leave you alone about this; I mean to play, and I mean to try out for the House team."  
  
I guess this isn't a joke anymore, Roger thought; it certainly stopped being funny a few squares back. "Right, then," he spoke up. "We'll have a practice match: regulars versus reserves. You take Dimsdale's place as Seeker. Show us what you can do."  
  
Cho simply smiled, nodded and walked a few yards downfield to where the other reserves were already huddled.  
  
"This can't be happening," sighed Chaser Erasmus Skiddle, once he was sure Cho was safely out of earshot. "You want us to do 'er like we did that witch two years ago-Ponsonby?"  
  
Roger glanced at Culligan, who held his hands up as if to say, "This isn't my decision to make; let's see what YOU'RE made of, too." Roger didn't have to think about it for very long. "Ponsonby got the message in five minutes and cleared out. I want to see the back of this one in three minutes."  
  
"Don't you think she already knows the way the score stands, boyo?" Culligan asked. "She's talked of naught else for a year now, and she knows we'd be less than welcoming to her."  
  
"She's either really dense or not easily discouraged. So it's up to us to discourage her."  
  
xxx  
  
Among the teaching of Confucius is the belief that compassion is an instinct in people. If we see violence, or even the threat of violence-for example, a child in the road in the path of a runaway cart-our first impulse is to stop the violence, rescue the child. Of course, some people are thicker than others, and it takes longer for them to get the message.  
  
The two squads faced each other off on the field. Cho's mind was racing, trying to recall everything she'd ever done or read or said that had anything to do with Quidditch: search for the Snitch, mind the Bludgers, no, let the Beaters mind the Bludgers, there's two on my side, I have to watch out for Jenkins and, and, oh gosh, what's his name-  
  
Roger tossed the Quaffle straight up into the air, and immediately both teams lifted off after it. Cho shot to a place five yards above the goals, out of harm's way-or so she thought.  
  
She noticed that Culligan, the other Seeker, stayed below the fray rather than above it. He probably thought that the Golden Snitch would stay close to the ground at first. She took a quick look at the grassy field; nothing. She didn't see it up at her altitude, either. She turned her head to look over her shoulder; if she hadn't, a Bludger would have broken her nose.  
  
She knew she was a target now, and would have to look for the Snitch while under fire. She quickly dropped down closer to the others, where the Quaffle was passing from team to team, and points were made on both sides almost casually.  
  
Cho wanted to complain to someone: is this a game or a drill? She almost didn't see the Bludger coming at her from the left. At the last second, she rolled right, letting it pass. She rose up a few feet to resume Seeking.  
  
That's when things started to get warmer.  
  
Cho had just spotted a flash of gold near her side's goalpost and was about to get a bit closer when Erasmus Skiddle body-checked Cho into the gallery. He didn't do much more than knock the wind out of her, and Cho kept control of the Comet. She drifted right, then, when she was sure Culligan was looking elsewhere, she made a power-dive toward the gold flashing.  
  
Roger Davies watched her, feeling no emotion about the body-check.  
  
Halfway there, both Bludgers hit her with "kidney punches" in the back. They knocked her off course for a bit, but she didn't break off her dive, except to level off three feet above the ground when the Snitch took off down the field.  
  
Roger Davies watched this without feeling anything.  
  
Roger did break a sweat when Culligan, seeing Cho chasing the Snitch and too far away to catch up, took the Quaffle out of the air in mid-pass and bounced it off the back of Cho's head, almost knocking her off of her broom. Almost, but not quite. She hung on and continued her hot pursuit of the Snitch, racing across the field just inches away from the grass.  
  
But just as her right hand flashed out in front of her and caught the Snitch-just at the moment all play should have stopped-two Bludgers hit her left shoulder in quick succession. Immediately after that she was body- checked by one of the Chasers into the stands again. This time, she hit with the sickening crack that could only mean a broken bone. She slid to the ground, with a broken rib in her side but with the Snitch still in her right hand.  
  
"STOP IT!"  
  
It took Roger Davies a few seconds to realize that the words had come out of his mouth.  
  
Jenkins landed next to Davies. Before he could say anything, Davies turned on him. "Don't just stand there, you idjit! Get Madam Pomfrey! She's hurt!"  
  
"But you told us."  
  
"Now I'm telling you different!" Jenkins flew toward the castle as the others stared at Roger. "Look, this is hard for me, but I admit it; she's got real talent. I looked straight at it for more than a year now, and I didn't do anything except try to keep her off the team. Well, I say thank heavens she has the talent and the nerve to keep coming back. I can't ignore her any more. I only hope she'll still have us."  
  
"We DO have a Seeker, you know. Remember Culligan? Seventh-Year chappie? He's not going to retire, no matter how good she is."  
  
"Fine. Then she goes on the reserve list instead of Dimsdale; he was never anything but a joke. She takes practice with the rest of the team and year after next, maybe sooner, she'll be a Seeker that'll knock the eyes out of everyone-including Harry 'First-Year' Potter!"  
  
By this time Madam Pomfrey had arrived. She cast a quick Levitation spell on Cho, who now floated a few inches off of the ground. "Can you tell me where it hurts, dear?" she asked Cho.  
  
Cho, wincing in pain, could barely gasp out the words: "Left arm. Right side."  
  
Pomfrey pressed her fingers deftly against Cho's side, and found the rib that had been broken. Then she noticed that Cho's robes by her left wrist were dark-soaked with blood.  
  
Pomfrey quickly sliced through the robes with her wand, using a Cutting spell, and saw her worst fears realized. One of the bones of Cho's forearm had not only broken, but had punctured the skin.  
  
Pomfrey glared at the Ravenclaw team, most of whom couldn't meet her gaze. "I suppose none of you will admit to who did this," she said angrily. Without waiting, she turned Cho around, to take her to the hospital wing.  
  
However, as she passed near Roger Davies, Cho reached for his hand and slipped the Golden Snitch into it. Roger was prepared for Cho to curse him out; instead, all she said was "Thank you" before she fainted.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 15, wherein Cho finds that another very important change has taken place. 


	15. How Wonderful

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13 (The contents of this chapter may be considered unsuitable by some persons)  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
15. "How Wonderful."  
  
The next day, Cho Chang awoke in the hospital wing from a dreamless sleep still feeling groggy. The first thing she did was roll up her left sleeve. She breathed a sigh of relief; there wasn't even a scar from the compound fracture. She then gingerly touched her rib cage, and seemed satisfied that Madam Pomfrey had done all that she promised. Her bones were properly mended. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was . wrong, somehow. An acrid smell hit her nose; a smell she couldn't place.  
  
Cho threw back the bedclothes-  
  
and screamed.  
  
Madam Pomfrey rushed into the infirmary to see an hysterical, shivering Cho Chang crawling backwards up the mattress, away from a large dark spot on the bed.  
  
"You missed something!" Cho was shouting. "I'm still hurt! I'm bleeding to death!"  
  
Poppy Pomfrey didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She'd seen this happen so many times, each and every year. What can modern witches be THINKING? How dare they send their daughters off so unprepared? Well, she thought, I don't know about Chinese witches; maybe they're not supposed to talk about it, but still.  
  
Aloud she said, smiling, "Yes, dear, you're bleeding, but not to death. Your mother's explained all this to you, hasn't she?"  
  
"My mother?"  
  
"Of course. Your menarche. Fertility, all that."  
  
"Oh. Yes, of course. I just . forgot. The broken bones and all; I guess I just panicked. Feel a proper fool now."  
  
Pomfrey could tell that Cho was bluffing. "That's all right then. Go and clean yourself up; I'll tend to the bed. And, Miss Chang, I do have a couple of special scrolls, just in case you need to refresh your memory."  
  
"I'd . I'd like that. Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."  
  
Cho knew that Pomfrey knew that Cho didn't know what was happening; she felt her cheeks start to burn. She jumped out of bed and ran to the lavatory, locking the door behind her. First things first: a bath. What about a new nightgown? Yes; the infirmary had some on a shelf next to the tub. But then what? She'd better read those scrolls.  
  
During her bath she noticed, for the first time, hair starting to grow in her armpits. She'd asked her mother about that one time, as a child years ago, when her parents were getting ready to spend an evening out with a client of daddy's. "Mummy, will I have hair like that?"  
  
"Yes, dear, when you're older."  
  
Well, Cho thought with a bit of a jolt, I guess it's official: I'm older.  
  
She looked down at her boyish body in the bath. Nothing much else seemed to have changed, except her nipples. They seemed to have swollen overnight to almost twice their ordinary size, and were very sensitive to the touch. Is this normal, she wondered; will they stay like that? I'd really better look at those scrolls from Madam Pomfrey.  
  
An hour later, having taken those scrolls through an empty Common Room (the others being at lunch) up to her dormitory room in Ravenclaw and read through them all, she was writing a letter home:  
  
"Dear Mummy:  
  
Sorry to have to change my plans so suddenly, but I will be coming back to Diagon Alley for the Christmas holidays. Something has happened and I need to talk to you about it. (Don't worry, it's nothing awful.) Expect me on the 20th.  
  
Cho"  
  
Just as she was rolling up the scroll to give to Quan Yin, Jan and Letitia came in talking about a battle that had almost taken place between Coriander and Mrs. Norris.  
  
"Cho! Wot're yeh doin' here?"  
  
"Madam Pomfrey said it was all right to come back."  
  
"Now it won't be a surprise, but we'll still get something special together for you tonight. We all want to talk to you about what just happened."  
  
Cho's cheeks started burning again. "All who?"  
  
"The whole House. You've become quite famous."  
  
"Me, famous? Because-because THAT happened?"  
  
"Well, it don' happen every day, does it?"  
  
"But-how many people know?"  
  
Letitia looked very lost. "We all know, of course; it's just been posted in the Common Room."  
  
"Oh no!" Cho moaned. "Take it down, please! How could you leave it up there?!"  
  
"Because it's big news, you becoming Reserve Seeker."  
  
"What? Oh, THAT!" Cho sighed in relief.  
  
"For someone who would have killed to get in last year, you're acting awfully queer now you've got it."  
  
"Well," Cho said, blushing, "that's not the only thing that's happened to me lately. While I was in the hospital wing, I started, that is, my body started."  
  
"Ye're changin', then?" Jan smiled. "Well, hurrah fer you an' welcome to the club!"  
  
"So you're also."  
  
Jan and Letitia both nodded. "O' course I had a small advantage, yeh might say, with two sisters just above me. I watched 'em go through it. Still, when it came to be my turn, they tried to scare me with all sorts o' stories. Like, how it was gonna hurt so bad yeh had ter drink this awful spider soup every month."  
  
"You're lucky, believe it or not," Letitia said. "Mine happened this past summer, and my Mum just gave me a scroll; she said it's what told her all about it when she was my age. It was called 'How Wonderful You're a Witch', and the stupid thing didn't tell me anything at all!" She actually started to laugh at the memory. "Made it seem like being older was all about hearts and flowers and romance; didn't offer a bit of practical help."  
  
"Yeh, I read that 'un," Jan nodded. "Some ol' witch in the Ministry wrote it, I think. Din't want ter offend anyone, so it ended up sayin' nothin'."  
  
"Do you think this happens a lot?" Cho asked. "I mean, I had no idea what was happening at first, but Madam Pomfrey didn't seem surprised or anything."  
  
"I expect there are lots of mothers, witches and Muggles both, who never talk to their daughters about this," Letitia sighed. "It's as if they're afraid of something."  
  
"Yeh," Jan added, "but we all went an' got th' truth fer ourselves. Tha's what makes us Ravenclaw!"  
  
Cho felt relieved as she tied her scroll to Quan Yin's leg and sent her back home to Diagon Alley. "Give me a minute to put on fresh robes," she told the others. "NOW I'm ready to see that notice in the Common Room!"  
  
"Speaking of which," Letitia said as she left, "I saw an old book there the other day with some Hygiene Charms you'll need. I'll try to find it while nobody's looking."  
  
"Yeh," nodded Jan, "an' le's hope Grimaldi ain't been writin' rude things in the margins."  
  
xxx  
  
The Great Hall was a very unusual place that night. Three of the tables were crowded as usual, but the fourth-the Ravenclaw House table-was never more than half full. Some of the professors wondered why, but Hooch and Flitwick had the answer. Students were stopping by just long enough to take food back to the Ravenclaw Common Room. There, most of the witches- and some of the wizards as well-were celebrating Cho Chang's place on the Quidditch team.  
  
"Awful lot of fuss for someone who's only on the Reserve List," said Professor Sprout to Professor McGonagall. Still, she said it, and McGonagall nodded in agreement, with a blaze of delight in their eyes. Even though they were Heads of their own Houses (Hufflepuff and Gryffindor respectively), and would have to send their own players against Ravenclaw, they couldn't help but be thrilled that a barrier to witches that had stood for a century was finally gone.  
  
Things had seldom been livelier in Ravenclaw's Common Room. There were some who couldn't have cared less about Quidditch but who welcomed the excuse for a party. But the witches were all rejoicing that Cho had done the seemingly impossible, getting onto the team. What's more, they all knew what Cho had been made to go through in order to land that spot; Captain Culligan saw to that. While he didn't name the names of the ones who caused Cho's injuries, his was the first hand to reach out to Cho when she came down from her dormitory.  
  
"No hard feeling, I hope," he smiled, "and welcome to the team."  
  
Cho didn't hesitate a second in shaking Culligan's hand. "No lasting harm done, Captain."  
  
From then on, it was as if Cho had a room full of house-elves. The minute her plate looked as if it might be empty, hands rushed forward with more food. Her cup was never less than full to the brim. It was as if she'd already won the House Cup, and she hadn't even played her first game yet. It was madness; it was foolish.  
  
It was wonderful.  
  
xxx  
  
That night, Cho was disturbed out of sleep by the noise of water running in the lavatory, of splashing and laughing. She looked around the suite; all of the other girls were fast asleep. Then who was in the lav? She didn't like the idea of facing down a possible intruder, but she got out of bed, grabbed her wand, and crept quietly to the door. When she got there, she suddenly thrust it open.  
  
It was a small tub, and barely seemed to have room enough for one. But there were two women in the tub, sitting facing each other. One was Madam Hooch, whose body (what little of it Cho could see above the rim) seemed younger than her years. The other person, Eunice Murray, looked quite healthy, considering she'd been dead for fifty years.  
  
"Hop in, Cho!" Madam Hooch called to her.  
  
"Yes, do join us," Eunice Murray echoed. "You will one day anyway; you know what they say about us Quidditch girls." She laughed, and so did Madam Hooch. As Cho watched, unable to speak or move, the two women turned back to face each other, leaning forward, their lips growing closer.  
  
Cho backed away, into the suite, and closed the lavatory door with a bang that was so loud.  
  
that Cho woke from her dream sitting up in bed, her head clammy with sweat.  
  
She was breathing in short, nervous pants, with her hand over her heart. Except that it wasn't. She realized that her hand was actually on her breast, two fingers unconsciously squeezing a swollen nipple through her nightgown.  
  
Cho let go of her breast as if it were a hot cauldron. The nipple continued to poke against her gown.  
  
"Damn," she muttered, "something else I'll have to research."  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 16, wherein Cho (along with the rest of Hogwarts) gets to see why an exception was made in Harry Potter's case. 


	16. An Owl Home

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13 (The contents of this chapter may be considered unsuitable by some persons)  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
16. An Owl Home  
  
6 November 1991  
  
Dear Mummy and Daddy,  
  
Sunday morning again. Coriander is scratching at the door to be let out, and Pywacket is playing with the hem of my nightgown. I've learned a few things about cats at Hogwarts, having two of them in my dormitory. One thing I've learned is that cats are much more dependent than owls; they always seem to need food or exercise or just a bit of attention. But that's what also makes them so much more fun than owls! I suppose that, when I was growing up, I just took Chairman Miao for granted, since he was the only cat in the house. Once I'm out of Hogwarts, though, I'll probably get a cat.  
  
It's been a very busy week. The school had its Hallowe'en Feast-it was supposed to be just a bit of a party in the middle of the year. In the middle of it all, our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher bursts in saying that a troll had gotten into the castle dungeon. So they march us all up to our rooms. A half-hour later, they tell us the troll's been caught with no harm done, except to one of the girls' bathrooms.  
  
How it got into the dungeon, thence to the first floor, is a mystery we've spent most of the week kicking around the Common Room. The door to the dungeon (the only one big enough for a mountain troll) was locked from the inside, which means that someone let it in, then re-locked the door. As to who would be lunatic enough to let a troll into the castle, there's simply no way to know. I think all of the students here have a quirk or two (including your impudent little horse!), but I can't imagine most of them wanting to put anyone's life at risk.  
  
Note that I said "most". There's at least one truly awful character here, one year below mine. He's a Slytherin, which means he's got at least the makings of a very nasty character. But this one, Draco Malfoy-well, I won't get ahead of myself. Here's what happened:  
  
It was a day or two after the Feast. I'd just come into the Common Room from practice-and we really are getting better every day! (I say "we" even though I probably won't play a game this year. This is the last year for Macarthur Culligan, our Seeker and Co-Captain. It's so important for him to leave with a winning season, and maybe even the House Cup. We're all working so hard to give it to him.)  
  
I was just about to head up to the dormitory when Raina al-Qaba came in. She's usually quiet most times and very pleasant the rest, but she was crying like a lost child. She tried to run up to the dormitory, but she was in such a state that she tripped on the bottom step. My friend Penny Clearwater and I went to help her, and I guess being shaken up by the fall helped her, because she was less frantic, although still crying.  
  
"What's the matter?" Penny asked.  
  
"I just met the most awful student." Raina's actually shaking at this point.  
  
"What, worse than me?" That was Grimaldi (of course).  
  
"He's a First-Year, I think. Draco Malfoy. Hair like snow, face like a knife-blade."  
  
"I know about him," Penny nodded. "Father's on the Board of Directors."  
  
"Well, the way he was walking around, he acted as if he owned the castle. I was crossing the courtyard, and he moves right in my way; him and these two fat little students who act like his bodyguards."  
  
"Bodyguards, is it?" Jan asked. "Full of himself, in't he?"  
  
"I try to go around, but he keeps moving to block me. Before I realized what had happened he was right in front of me, and the other two were standing behind me, and I was caught in the middle. I couldn't get away. He sort of curls his lips and said, 'What are you doing here?'  
  
"I said, 'I'm a student, like you.'  
  
"He said, 'Get this straight: you are definitely NOT like me!' He starts reaching for my khimar [that's the scarf she always wears around her head] and I tried to back away, but those other two are there. Then he said, 'Where are you from anyway?'  
  
"'I was born in London, but my parents are from Iran.'  
  
Then he smirked at me again and he said, 'What does that make you-a Sand Witch?' The other two thought this was funny and started laughing. Then they started pushing me back and forth, and they kept chanting 'Sand Witch! Sand Witch!' They only stopped when one of the professors-Diggle, I think- came out of the castle. I . . . I was too embarrassed to say anything, so I just ran back here."  
  
The poor girl was still shaking after recalling what had happened to her. Penny put her arm around Raina's shoulder. "We can't take any action against them now, I'm afraid. It would just be your word against theirs. Just be content until Saturday. We'll get to see all of Slytherin House get taken down a peg or two."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Letitia asked.  
  
"Slytherin gets to defend its House Cup against Gryffindor." That was "Jinx" Jenkins, one of Ravenclaw's Beaters (and I'm not sure where he got his nickname; he's very aggressive at Quidditch but rather sweet-tempered off the field). "They've got to deal with Gryffindor's secret weapon."  
  
"Wot's that, then?"  
  
"Harry Potter, of course."  
  
Ever since I got on the Ravenclaw team, I quite simply haven't had the time to be angry at Harry Potter for getting on as a Seeker in his first year. "How do you know he's that good?" I asked Jinx.  
  
"Because Wood has been drilling with the boy three times a week. Potter didn't even know what Quidditch was when he got here, so they've had to get him up to speed. Anyway, with all that practice time, somebody's bound to just sort of walk past the stadium, or taken a nap under the stands, or something."  
  
"Then you've seen him! You're saying he's good?"  
  
"I'm saying that, for an amateur who's never played a match, he's very good."  
  
"What does that make me, then?"  
  
"You? You're older, you know the game inside-out, and you've played more matches than Harry. The fact is, you're damn good."  
  
(Sorry for crowing about that; I know it isn't seemly. But I'm just reporting what was said.)  
  
So Saturday came, and we all went to the stadium, not so much to cheer for Gryffindor as to hope that they beat Slytherin. But I was also there-and I suspect most of us were there-because of Ha Li Po Te. We'd heard so much about him, and seen him around Hogwarts, and by all accounts he's a pretty average student. We wanted to see why an exception was made in his case for Quidditch.  
  
Well, from the opening whistle, we could see why. Whether it was all the training or something inborn, he rode his broom as if he was born for it. Almost every move he made was a move I would have made in the same position. He understood the game, the role of the Seeker, and how to play against the unbelievably dirty tactics of Slytherin.  
  
I know I've written to you beforre about how they play Quidditch. Nothing has changed since last year, except maybe their ferocity. They knew (or suspected) that they'd have to fight for it this year, and what Slytherin did was more like brawling than Quidditch. At one point, both Seekers were racing toward the Snitch, but the Slytherin Captain deliberately collided with Harry Potter, forcing him almost off his broom. He must have felt that the team would rather suffer the penalty shot.  
  
Shortly after that, something started going very odd with Potter, as if he was losing control of his broom. I don't mean to sound superior, but I don't think the Nimbus 2000 was designed for an eleven-year-old-and certainly not for an eleven-year-old to fly in a match, whether he vanquished the Dark Lord or not. Finally, he goes into a dive, falls off the broom when he gets close to the field-and takes the Snitch out of his mouth! Slytherin contested the play, and (I hate to admit it) well they should have; who's to say that he didn't have a Snitch tucked into his cheek all along?  
  
The history of Quidditch includes some pretty audacious cheats. Lots of players-and the occasional spectator-cast spells on other players or referees; and Madam Hooch one time told me of a match where one team fielded three Beaters-one of them had gotten his hands on a Cloak of Invisibility, so he was quite literally a secret weapon. (That one ended when the extra Beater didn't pay attention and was knocked unconscious by a Bludger.)  
  
So, in the end, Gryffindor was declared the winner. I was glad for Raina's sake, but as for Harry Potter, I'd say the jury is still out. Nothing I saw yesterday in his first game convinced me that he was the great talent that the rumours said he was. Still, there will be other matches this year.  
  
The weather gets cooler, the days grow shorter. School is enjoyable, Quidditch is enjoyable, but this year I'll be glad to get back for the holidays. You'll understand why. Scratch Chairman Miao behind his ears for me. I'll write again next weekend-sooner if anything interesting happens. But every week can't be as interesting as trolls and Quidditch.  
  
Cho  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 17, wherein Cho goes home for the holidays and finds more than she bargained for at the British Museum 


	17. Home for the Holidays 1

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13 (The contents of this chapter may be considered unsuitable by some persons)  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
17. Home for the Holidays (1)  
  
The weather was unseasonably warm on the 14th of December. For the first time at Hogwarts, Cho was not watching a Quidditch match by sitting in the galleries with the other students; she was on a bench on the field with the rest of the reserves, clutching her Comet Two Sixty. In the (very unlikely) event that something happened to Mackie Culligan and he couldn't continue as the Ravenclaw Seeker, she had to be ready to fly in and take over.  
  
Cho prepared for the game that morning with a step-by-step process that became something of a ritual with her: a list of things she did before any Quidditch match, whether she was on the field or on the bench. She had kept her fingernails short since she was a child; on game mornings, she buffed and filed and brushed them down almost to the quick. During one of her practice sessions at Puddlemere the previous summer, she had caught the Snitch, only for it to catch a wing on a corner of her nail; using that as leverage, it jerked itself out of Cho's hand. She wasn't about to let that happen again.  
  
After that, she would brush out her hair (which, having never been cut, now reached well down her back). She would then braid it, coil the braid onto the back of her head and spell it into place. Sometimes, having the wind whip one's hair into one's face was fun and oddly exciting, but Cho realized a match wasn't one of those times.  
  
While she went through all of these preparations at her bedside table, Cho's dorm mates would look on in silence. Something told them that they could not-or should not-disturb Cho. Her moves were careful and deliberate; almost a religious rite of some kind.  
  
She went to breakfast on December 14, but realized that she had no appetite at all. She had a spoonful of eggs and one sausage-which she ate very daintily, with a knife and fork. Any other day she'd think nothing of picking up a banger and popping it in her mouth; but on Quidditch day, she made sure nothing got on her fingers.  
  
Finally, she and the rest of the team went to the stadium to put on their robes. Ravenclaw's colors-blue and bronze-seemed a bit somber compared to the robes of the other Houses, but Cho thought them perfect. The size was another matter; even the smallest Ravenclaw Quidditch robes were a size too big for Cho. It was too late to do anything about it now, so Cho would have to wear the large robes, on one of the warmest December days in memory, and have them taken in later.  
  
The match itself was no surprise: Ravenclaw easily beat Hufflepuff. That afternoon, as snow began falling-snow that would be several feet high by daybreak-the Ravenclaw team sat around the Common Room discussing their first match of the year.  
  
Roger Davies turned suddenly to face Cho, who had been noticeably silent. "Well, Miss Kenilworthy Chang, any thoughts?"  
  
Cho had let her hair down again. She was now snuggled into a corner of a divan, holding a bottle of butterbeer, and she looked at Roger almost as if he was a plant in the greenhouse and she was trying to determine what kind. "Do you want me to be honest?"  
  
Roger shrugged. "Try it and see what happens."  
  
Cho looked around, and didn't see their Seeker. "Well, just looking at the Seekers, I guess both teams did the best they could with the talent they had."  
  
"Which was ."  
  
"Too nervous on their side, and too cautious on ours."  
  
"You just wish it were you instead of Culligan."  
  
"I don't know what happened to him today, but he simply wasn't himself as a Seeker. He couldn't seem to concentrate on the game. Slytherins scare him off, but I don't know what his excuse was against Hufflepuff; they're hardly an aggressive team. And I don't know why Hufflepuff is playing a Fourth-Year Seeker like Diggory. He may have the build, but he didn't have anything like the speed. The fact that we beat Hufflepuff owes less to our Seeker than to Diggory's failings."  
  
"Ah. Fancy Diggory, do you?"  
  
"I do NOT! Honestly, why do you think this is about anything but Quidditch."  
  
"May I speak in my own defense?" Mackie Culligan was on the steps leading to the boys' dormitories. "To tell you all the truth, Chang is right; I didn't have my mind on the game today. I couldn't stop myself thinking that this is my last year. I've got NEWTs to prepare for."  
  
"That won't be too hard, Mackie," Roger smiled. "Got a first-class brain. You're a Ravenclaw, when all's said and done."  
  
Mackie sighed. "You'll understand in your seventh year, boyo."  
  
"Well, I don't understand why you're taking on so." Cho was on her feet now. "We're only assured of playing two games, and the third and final one if we get that far. We had a good win today, that's all that matters; and we're going to have a winning season this year. It'll be our graduation gift to Captain Culligan."  
  
The sound of clinking butterbeer bottles and shouts of "Hear hear!" echoed in the Ravenclaw Common Room.  
  
xxx  
  
Going to the station on the 23rd was a bit like going to the castle from the train in September. Only, this time, the students piled into small sledges, which only held four or five people, and they slid briskly under their own magical power over the deep snow around the castle. Something about snow makes people giddy, even childlike; Cho was riding with Krixlow and Grimaldi, and had to dodge the handsful of snow they scooped up as they sped along and threw at each other, laughing all the while. By the time they got to the station at Hogsmeade, even Cho was laughing.  
  
She settled in for the long trip back to London by doing some reading; rather, re-reading. She had brought the special scrolls Madam Pomfrey had told her about. Even though she had almost committed them to memory, she wanted to be sure that she hadn't missed anything. She had also copied out some of the Hygiene Charms from the book Letitia Groondy had found for her, and intended to ask her mother about them. This, after all, was the reason she was spending the holidays at home.  
  
She thought about how she'd miss Christmas dinner in the Great Hall, New Year's Eve with Mackie and Roger and the rest of the team in the Common Room. She sighed as she reached into her trunk and pulled out a scroll at random. It was the same scroll Letitia had mentioned: "How Wonderful You're a Witch." She looked through it, and realized that Letitia was right; it was of no use at all. So why did anyone keep the thing around? Why didn't Madam Pomfrey get fresher, more up-to-date scrolls?  
  
Cho was fighting sleep when she saw that one passage in the scroll had been circled by a previous reader, who had also written in the margin, almost too faintly to see, "Great Merlin, how true!" The passage:  
  
"Quite apart from the changes your body is going through, your emotions are in for an even more rocky ride. These are years when feelings intensify even as your body develops. Your happiness will be much more intense than ever before, and so will your sorrows; there will be days when you'll feel that you'd rather die than go on living. There will be days when you'll curse your best friends, and when wizards who you barely know will fill your every thought.  
  
"Be careful, Young Witch. Many of these thoughts and hopes and fears are simply illusions, caused by your body changing to take on its adult role. They won't always tell you the truth, and you'll have to sort everything out not just once, but several times. Keep close to your friends, Young Witch, because that first taste of True Love may not be true after all; nor the second nor even the third. You'll thank yourself later if you wait until that One Special Wizard truly comes along."  
  
It was poetic, maybe, but Letitia was right; how practical was that advice here and now? Cho didn't feel True Love for anyone. She didn't even have a short list of potential boyfriends. Although such a list might include Roger, maybe even Harry Potter.  
  
WHAT? Where did THAT come from? From reading the scroll, no doubt. I have NEVER looked at . not like THAT! Come off it, Cho.  
  
She settled herself into the seat, watching the snowscape through the frosted windows.  
  
xxx  
  
Lotus Chang didn't waste any time, and started scolding her daughter while they were still on the platform. "You said you had to come home, and I hope you appreciate what this means to your father and me. We had to change a lot of plans."  
  
Cho decided she shouldn't waste time either. "I'm sorry, mummy, but so did I. It seems I have to go shopping now, and I need your help."  
  
"Shopping? You came back home to go shopping? For what?"  
  
"Well, for starters, a brassiere."  
  
Lotus stopped walking, and stared at Cho. "You mean . you started-didn't you?"  
  
"Yes, mummy, and I wish you'd warned me; scared myself half to death, didn't know what was happening, and made an utter fool of myself."  
  
"We don't talk about these matters unless we have to; and apparently we have to." She continued walking briskly toward the exit.  
  
"Mummy."  
  
"Not another word about it until we're home!"  
  
Cho suddenly remembered why she didn't come home for the holidays last year.  
  
xxx  
  
They didn't speak again until they were in the study, on the middle floor of their building at the far end of Diagon Alley. "Very well," Lotus sighed, sounding as if her daughter was being a nuisance, "what do you still need to know? I suppose by now you understand the basics."  
  
Cho did what she always did when her mother got like this: she answered back in kind, determined to give as good as she got, even from her mother. "No thanks to you. I mean, in this whole library, isn't there one book that I could have read before going up in September? Something that could have told me what to expect? Or were you hoping I'd embarrass myself in front of the whole school?"  
  
"Are you saying you did?"  
  
"As it turned out, no; only in front of the nurse in the hospital wing."  
  
"Then I don't see why you're so upset."  
  
"I'm upset now because you still haven't answered me! Do we have anything?"  
  
Cho's mother picked up her wand from the glass side-table, pointed it at the bookcase on the far wall and muttered an incantation in Mandarin. At once, an entirely new shelf of books and scrolls appeared. "It was your father's idea to hide those until you were old enough. I happened to agree."  
  
"Didn't it occur to either of you ."  
  
"I don't have time for this," Lotus interrupted. "I have to get back to the shoppe. Read anything you wish. We'll go to Madam Malkin's on Thursday." With that she swept out of the room.  
  
Cho was stunned. All those books were there all the time?! She had no idea, but her parents did . She came very close to throwing something at the shelf, or at the door through which her mother had just exited, but instead started reading the spines of the hidden books. Some of them appeared to be written in English, and some in Chinese. Some were factual books on medicine and health; others were racy-looking novels. But she noticed a blank space at the end of the shelf, which could have held another book or two.  
  
She tried to slide other books into the empty space, but the books wouldn't budge. So there's something they're still keeping hidden, she thought. Cho decided to explore that mystery another day.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 18, wherein Cho hunts for information and frilly underwear, and finds more than a little of both . 


	18. Home for the Holidays 2

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13, maybe even a soft R (The contents of this chapter may be considered unsuitable by some persons)  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
18. Home for the Holidays (2)  
  
The Chang family had a fairly subdued Christmas, brightened for Cho only by the arrival of a very large owl with a very large bundle. Within it, Cho found her Quidditch robes-now altered to be a perfect fit. The attached note read: "These robes are like your broom: used before by others, but never used better than by you. Happy Christmas!" and was signed by Madam Hooch and everyone on the Ravenclaw team.  
  
Cho wore her Quidditch robes for the rest of the day, and would have worn them out the next day, when her mother took her to Madam Malkin's. At the last minute, she changed into her everyday robes and winter cloak. Winds were whipping ice up and down Diagon Alley, and even the short walk to Madam Malkin's left them with stinging cheeks, freezing limbs and watery eyes.  
  
"Compliments of the season, ladies! What can I do for you?"  
  
Before Cho could say a word, her mother had grabbed Madam Malkin's elbow and pulled her to the other side of the shoppe. She spoke to the seamstress-witch in a rapid-fire whisper.  
  
All that Cho could do to protest was to yell, "MOTHER!" But no sooner was the word out of her mouth than Madam Malkin descended on Cho. "Well, this is a special day for you, then. Just scoot into the next room and I'll take care of everything. Missus, you're welcome to sit out here with a cup of tea. Or if you'd like to toddle off to the Leaky ."  
  
"But my daughter!" Lotus interrupted.  
  
"Is in the best of hands for the next hour. Don't worry; I've done this for hundreds of young ladies." With that, she walked into the back as if Lotus Chang wasn't even there.  
  
Cho was about to speak to Madam Malkin when she heard her mother loudly slam the shoppe door. She couldn't help but giggle as she said, "Thank you."  
  
"Well, I know how mothers can be sometimes. Now, if you'd please disrobe."  
  
Cho removed her winter cloak and her robes.  
  
"No, dear, I mean everything."  
  
"Everything?!"  
  
"No need to be embarrassed; we are fitting you out for undergarments, after all, and you have nothing I haven't seen before. Quick smart, before your mother comes back."  
  
Cho felt very strange removing garment after garment until she was standing on a stool before Madam Malkin, completely nude. It was only now, as she glanced downward at herself, that she realized that her breasts had actually grown since the last time she'd seen them; grown very little, but grown nonetheless.  
  
"Just had another Hogwarts girl in the other day," Madam Malkin prattled on as her tape measure buzzed around Cho like a hummingbird. "Strange girl; would not take the scarf off of her head for anything. Didn't really matter to me, but ."  
  
"Was her name Raina?" Cho interrupted.  
  
"Might have been," the seamstress nodded, "but I'm afraid I had already started celebrating a wee bit, and I really wasn't paying much attention."  
  
Cho actually felt relieved. It looked like most of her dorm would be going through the same thing at the same time. It made her feel less confused, somehow, just knowing that she was part of another team.  
  
An hour later, Cho was just putting on her robes when her mother stormed back into the shoppe. She seemed to bring the winter storm in with her. "Are you there?"  
  
Cho walked out of the back room with a paper-wrapped parcel. Madam Malkin opened an old-fashioned cash box; the kind the Muggles used in Victorian times. "Everything taken care of," she beamed at Mrs. Chang, who didn't beam back, but studied the scroll the seamstress had handed her.  
  
"You'll find everything is in order," Madam Malkin said, trying to nudge Mrs. Chang into paying the bill.  
  
Mrs. Chang seemed to sniff at the scroll instead. "These prices are accurate?"  
  
"With the trade in silk being what it is these days, mum, I wish I could take a bit off the price. And these all have the Hygiene Charms built right in, Growth Compensation Spells."  
  
"Fine, fine," Mrs. Chang muttered, digging a coin pouch from the pocket of her robes and placing a small pile of Galleons on the counter. Her change came to four Sickles, but she didn't budge from the spot until they were in her hand. "Come along, Cho," she said as she turned to the door.  
  
"Let me know how they suit you, dearie," Cho heard the seamstress-witch call out as she left the shop. "Always like to know my customers are satisfied!"  
  
Mother and daughter didn't speak on the walk home because they couldn't; the wind was, if anything, fiercer than before. When they reached the door to the Changs's apothecary shoppe, Cho ran to the back and up the flight of stairs, stopping only to leave her cloak in the hall. She then ran to her room, closed the door, tore open the wrapped package and spread everything out on the bed: three brassieres of varying design (including one so daring that Cho immediately hid it in her suitcase), six panties, three chemises and two slips. She sat on the bed and felt the fine silk material under her fingers. No sooner did she do so than Chairman Miao came out from under the bed and bounded into Cho's lap. Cho gave a surprised laugh and started scratching behind the cat's ears.  
  
"Are you all right in there?" Cho heard her mother call through the door. Cho didn't answer. "Aren't you having lunch?"  
  
"I'll be down in a little while, mummy," Cho called. Her mother seemed satisfied by that and went away.  
  
Cho kept scratching the purring cat's head, trying hard to keep from thinking about her mother.  
  
xxx  
  
The next day, she was out the door early, taking only two bites of toast for breakfast and telling her parents that she had "research". She grabbed her cloak and her school book-bag (with her wand inside it) and was out the door.  
  
Stepping out onto Diagon Alley, she could tell that yesterday's storm had died down. The wind was less harsh, the cold was less intense. She walked through the Leaky Cauldron and onto the streets of Muggle London, knowing exactly where to go.  
  
Her father, known among non-Chinese as James Arthur Chang, was a great believer in education. It was the basis for all success, in society and in one's personal life; that was his belief, based on the ideas of Confucius, and he never tired of pushing the need for education. But he went further. From an early age, he made sure that his daughter had memberships in the Reading Room of the British Museum, the University of London Library in Senate House, and other research collections around London. He expected Cho to take education seriously, and (so far, at any rate) she had lived up to his expectations.  
  
She had started the day at Senate House, and, as the afternoon deepened into night, she was at the Reading Room of the British Museum. She'd taken copious notes from a dozen books whose titles included the word "puberty", and from another dozen sources on "adolescent sexuality". She was trying to read her own future as well as answer questions in her mind about the past-especially about that dream with Hooch and Eunice Murray .  
  
She looked at her watch: 5:00 p.m. The Museum would close in another thirty minutes. She put on her cloak and picked up her book-bag, then decided to duck back into the stacks; there was time for one more source.  
  
She walked down to her aisle, in a corner of the Reading Room that was almost empty now, when she realized that someone else was in the space between the stacks. At first, he looked like just another college student- someone who would fit into the surroundings. But at second glance, Cho got nervous about the young man. She could smell him, even a couple of yards away; he had the odour of the deranged Muggles who stopped washing and stopped caring about it. There was also, now that she was close enough to see it, a mad gleam in his eyes.  
  
"Bit young to be here by yourself, ain't yeh?"  
  
Cho turned to go down the other end of the aisle, but someone-probably this young man-had stacked chairs at the end. It would be enough to stop her.  
  
"Leave me alone, please," she said, keeping her voice as steady as she could.  
  
"I'm just doing this fer yer benefit. Yeh know what they say about all work an' no play."  
  
Cho backed away, keeping at least five feet between them. "I'm warning you!"  
  
The man grabbed a book at random off the nearest shelf and threw it at Cho; she ducked just in time. "Yeh see, this can be a lot of fun if yeh don't get me mad."  
  
Was self-defense acceptable if she broke the rule about Underage Magic Users? She felt into her book-bag, pulled out her wand and pointed it at him.  
  
He didn't seem impressed. "Got somethin' longer than that for yeh, darlin'." He took another step toward Cho.  
  
Cho was backed up against the stacked chairs now; there was nowhere to go. Rules about Underage Magic be damned! "Petrificus temporus!"  
  
The man stopped in his tracks. The only part of him moving were his eyes, growing wider and wider with a growing sense of panic.  
  
Cho smiled, feeling that she was totally in control of the situation. She walked right up to the man, standing within an inch of his face, although his odour made her back off.  
  
"This is just temporary," she told him in a whisper. "You'll be free of it in about an hour-unless you're discovered by the guard first." She slowly walked around him, as if he were a statue in a garden. By now, the shock and the adrenaline had left her feeling giddy, almost foolhardy.  
  
"As long as you're here, I'll let you in on a little secret as to why you can't move. I'm a witch. Honestly. There are thousands of us all over England; millions of us all over the world. You've been walking past us on the street all your life and never knew it. And once you're back on the street, you'll never know whom you'll be standing next to.  
  
"I'm telling you this, of course, because nobody will ever believe you. But you'll know this is true for the rest of your days. So I wouldn't bother young girls in the future, if I were you; some of them may not like it. And some of them may not be as charitable as I."  
  
She tucked the wand back into her backpack and half-ran, half-skipped down the corridor toward the door, her silvery laughter echoing back to the paralyzed man. By the time she reached the shoppe, she looked as though nothing unusual had happened.  
  
Her father was just closing the shoppe when she came in. "Did you have a good day, then?"  
  
"Yes, I, I found what I needed to find."  
  
xxx  
  
Rough weather moved back into London, and Cho hardly left home for the rest of the holiday. Just as well; she was determined to solve the mystery of the book or books that were still Charmed out of sight in the library.  
  
She could only devote an hour or so a day to trying to unravel the puzzle. She needed a time when her parents would be busy in the shoppe, but the weather assured that there would be few customers. This cut into Cho's available time, because one parent or another would always be coming back upstairs.  
  
Her mother would come up on the flimsiest excuses, looking for a second sweater one time, checking the cat's food bowl another. She always sought out Cho on these occasions, as if she were watching her, perhaps trying to get up the nerve to say something-- No, Cho decided, she was just being snoopy.  
  
She tried every Charm she knew to open the secret place, then went back to her textbooks to look for other Charms that would cause the spot to be blocked off. The more she failed, the more determined she became to succeed.  
  
Finally, on 3 January-two days before her return to Hogwarts-she read about the Camera Oscura, or Hidden Room, Charm. At first it didn't seem to apply: wizards usually used it to shut themselves away in a private place, rather than to hide something. Still, she tried the Countercharm-and it worked! The box seemed to vanish, revealing several old, valuable-looking volumes. She picked one up. It was clearly hundreds of years old, printed in Chinese, with the title "The Spring Palace". It claimed to have been written by Chao Tzu-Ang during the Han Dynasty, which would make the book almost two thousand years old!  
  
No wonder it's kept hidden, Cho thought; a valuable antique like this. Father probably got this as an investment. She thought to put the book back on the shelf and re-impose the Camera Oscura Charm. However, her curiosity about the book got the better of her. She opened it.  
  
It was a collection of Muggle drawings that didn't move, with commentaries on each scene. One picture, for example, was titled "Queen Bee Making Honey"; another, "Hungry Steed Gallops to His Food". But these pictures had nothing to do with bees or horses. Rather, they were about two people playing what the text called "the wind-and-moon game". Even though Cho had spent part of the holidays reading about sexual matters, this was the first time in her life she had ever seen it.  
  
She was-incredulous. "I'm supposed to LET someone put THAT inside me?! I don't think so!" Even though the accompanying text described (as if such descriptions were necessary) the lovers as feeling various degrees of ecstasy, Cho had serious doubts that they were feeling any such thing. It all looked rather uncomfortable, even contrived. But then, it was an old book.  
  
She put it back on the shelf and performed the Camera Oscura Charm, hiding the books and scrolls, presumably all dealing with the same topic, back on their corner of the shelf. As far as she was concerned, that was the end of that.  
  
She had a dream, however, that night. She dreamed that she was in one of the pictures; specifically, the one titled "Queen Bee Making Honey". As in the picture, the two people in her dream merely held a pose, unmoving and quite naked. She was on her back, her legs raised in a wide V, and between them she could see the man in the picture-except that this man's face bore a bit of a resemblance to-Roger Davies.  
  
Cho awoke with a start, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She grabbed her pillow and began pounding it with her fist, each punch accompanied by a word she shouted in her mind: "I-DID-NOT-WANT-TO-SEE-THAT!!" She tried to get back to sleep but couldn't; only by replaying Quidditch matches over and over in her thoughts did she drift off at last into a dreamless sleep.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 19, wherein Cho starts to see the Gryffindor Seeker in a totally new light...  
  
A/N: The description of the "Spring Palace" and its pictures comes from a Chinese erotic novel of the 17th Century, "The Flesh Prayer-Mat" by Li Yü. 


	19. Quidditch Matches

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
19. Quidditch Matches  
  
Cho spent the remaining two days of the holiday preparing to go back to school. For Cho, this meant taking advantage of a break in the weather. The sun came out, the wind died down, and temperatures were at or above the freezing mark. So, using the Portkey her father had given her, she spent most of the two days at the home stadium for Puddlemere United. She'd gone for almost two weeks with no practice at all, and had to make up for lost time-and on a borrowed broom, at that.  
  
At supper on the 4th, the night before she was to go back to Hogwarts, Cho's mother brought up Quidditch. She hadn't said a word during the meal. However, as the dishes cleared themselves, Lotus Chang stared daggers at her daughter. "You could have helped in the shop today."  
  
Cho tried not to get upset. "You didn't tell me you needed help, mummy."  
  
"Why should I have to tell you? Why didn't you think to ask?"  
  
"I've had other things on my mind."  
  
"Other things? Do you mean Quidditch, or sex, or both? It certainly hasn't been your schoolwork."  
  
"Schoolwork isn't a problem. The courses are dead easy, and I got caught up with the work before I left. This is a holiday, you know."  
  
"Only for some of us, it seems."  
  
Mister Chang interrupted: "If you recall, we had to be sure about your balancing studies and Quidditch. We were concerned about how you would spend your time."  
  
"I don't think I've abused the privilege."  
  
"We're not saying you have, Cho, but now that you're actually on the team."  
  
"You have no business being on that team! Especially now that you're becoming a woman. It's not proper!" Mrs. Chang was shouting at her daughter.  
  
Cho barely kept her anger at her mother under control. "Mummy, there are plenty of older girls on the House teams. They don't seem to have a problem."  
  
"Of course not; girls with no proper home training! With mothers who don't care!"  
  
Cho finally lost her temper. "They are my friends!"  
  
"You shouldn't be their friend!"  
  
Cho jumped up from her seat, ran up to her room and slammed the door with all her might. She wasn't heard from until the next morning; with less than an hour until the Hogwarts Express left King's Cross, her father called to her. She threw the door open and walked downstairs, carrying her suitcase. She didn't say a word to her father as they walked down Diagon Alley and through the Leaky Cauldron. When he hailed a taxi, though, and the driver opened the boot, Cho threw her suitcase in as hard as she could, then sat on the rear seat, pouting.  
  
As they rode toward King's Cross, Cho's father said simply, ""I know she's frustrating. I've known her longer than you've been alive. But surely we've taught you better manners than this."  
  
"Sorry," Cho muttered, although her expression had softened, with a bit of sorrow mixed in with the anger.  
  
When they reached the station, Mr. Chang took the bag and carried it to Platform 9. He set it down and put his hands on Cho's shoulders.  
  
"Just . do your best, then."  
  
"Yes, daddy," Cho answered, barely above a whisper, her lip starting to tremble.  
  
With that, her father turned on his heel and left the station. There was just enough time for Cho to grab her bag, run through the barrier and onto Platform 9¾, and board the train. She stowed her bag, ran to the lavatory, and cried for thirty minutes. After that, she returned to her compartment as if nothing was wrong.  
  
xxx  
  
Once she got back to Hogwarts, Cho didn't let anything get to her except Ravenclaw's next three Quidditch matches. Even though she knew she stood no chance of playing, she thought of herself as a Seeker, and tried to stay always at the ready.  
  
First, though, was the match on 22 February between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff was playing its regular Seeker, Chase-Sanborn. Like Mackie Culligan, it was his Seventh Year, and this would probably be his last game.  
  
As Cho sat in the stands between Jan Nugginbridge and Penny Clearwater, they realized that the match would be refereed by Professor Snape.  
  
"Tha's funny, tha' is. Wot's he playin' at?"  
  
"Maybe Madam Hooch is under the weather," Penny guessed.  
  
"She told me about Snape one time," Cho added. "Said he was a Beater when he was a student."  
  
"Hard to imagine him being either one," Penny chuckled.  
  
Just then, the teams flew into the stadium and landed on the field, preparing to play.  
  
"Which side do yeh fancy, then?"  
  
Cho was acting like a Seeker even though she wasn't even playing. She watched the two Seekers, and watched Snape release the Golden Snitch. It immediately sought cover near the stadium walls.  
  
Cho had her eyes on both team Seekers, so she was one of the few in the stands who saw Harry Potter, circling high above the fray, actually spot the Snitch. He went into a high-speed dive, seeming to want to ram himself into Snape. As it was, he passed within a few inches of Snape, grabbed the Snitch, which had been flying in Snape's wake, and held it aloft.  
  
Jan was aghast. "That was a load o' rubbish! Three minutes for a match?!"  
  
Cho stared open-mouthed at her dorm-mate. "Were we just watching the same thing?"  
  
"What was so great about that, then?"  
  
"Honestly, Jan, he was a totally different Seeker! Like he'd been reborn over the holidays, or found his . I don't know. I can't put it into words. But that stoop, that dive for the Snitch. It was so perfect, so precise; it was like watching a falcon going in for the kill. It was . " Cho realized that her words were running on faster than she could control them. She took a deep breath. "He was the kind of Seeker I want to be! I'm going to be paying much more attention to Harry Potter!"  
  
"Ar," Jan nodded. "Fancy him, do yeh?"  
  
"I do not fancy anybody! This is all about Quidditch!"  
  
"Well," Penny added, "you'd better not hope to be too much like him, or you'll have all of Ravenclaw House down around your ears."  
  
"How do you mean?"  
  
"Look at the score." Cho looked at the scoreboard: the numbers "150-0" were just fading from sight.  
  
Cho understood at once. However perfect Harry's dive may have been, it was rash. Nobody else had had the time to score any points. At the end of the year, even a single goal might make the difference in awarding the House Cup.  
  
Cho turned and nodded at Penny, showing that she understood. "It was still a magnificent dive, though." She turned her eyes back to the stadium, as if she could still see the Gryffindor Seeker in a fierce rush to capture the Snitch.  
  
xxx  
  
On 21 March, Cho's vantagepoint was again on the Ravenclaw bench. This game-Ravenclaw against Slytherin-was everything the previous game was not: confusing at times, boring at times, and rather drawn out.  
  
Not that the Ravenclaws didn't enjoy the match, especially its outcome. When Mackie Culligan, with the Ravenclaw Beaters clearing Higgs of Slytherin out of his path, captured the Snitch after almost an hour of play, the score was 270-150. Almost all of Ravenclaw's other points were from penalty shots. Slytherin had finally made the mistake of being too bold, too obvious. After the loss to Gryffindor, they desperately needed to beat Ravenclaw to stay in contention, so they tried every trick they knew.  
  
The trouble was, Ravenclaw knew them too. Since the Christmas holidays they'd spent their practices learning to counter the fouls that they could counter, while taking advantage of the fouls they couldn't help. Most important of all, Cho had spent the practices pretending to be Higgs, so that Culligan could get over his nervousness against Slytherin.  
  
And it worked. Nothing seemed to faze Culligan this match. Even though he made three tries at catching the Snitch only to be fouled by Higgs or a Slytherin Beater, he didn't let it rattle his game. When he landed at the end of the match, with the Snitch in hand, he was as calm and self- possessed as he was at the beginning.  
  
So it was a complete surprise that evening, as the team celebrated in the Common Room with other Ravenclaws, when Culligan stood and called for attention.  
  
"This should be the happiest day of my life," he said, "because we've done what we never did before. We took the worst Slytherin could dish out, and we still beat them." Some Ravenclaws started to cheer, but they quickly stopped, seeing Culligan's silence.  
  
"Any other year, I would have said that we were past the worst of it, with Slytherin out of the running and only Gryffindor to fight. But Harry Potter changes everything. We've all had a chance to see him in action. Putting it simply, he's the best I've seen here. I know I can't go up against him. That's why I'm telling you now: I won't be Seeker for the final game."  
  
A chorus of protests drowned him out; he waited until the other voices died down. "Believe me, it hurts that I won't be playing my last game at Hogwarts, and a championship match at that. But I know my limits, and, as Captain, I'm taking myself out of the game and putting in Cho Chang."  
  
Now the protests were even louder. Cho was too stunned to take it personally; all she did was stare at Culligan. What was he thinking?  
  
As if he read her mind, Culligan answered: "Sorry to put you on the spot like this. I suppose it's rather a baptism by fire. But I'm not sacrificing you to make myself look good. I know that, between the two of us, you stand the better chance against Potter. You're young, you're fast, you've got a grand eye, and you know how to bide your time and make every movement count. I saw all that these past two months, when we were getting ready for the Slytherins. I'm leaving Hogwarts in a few months anyway, and I want us to have a winning season, and you're our best chance of that."  
  
Every eye in the room stared at Cho, trying to judge her reaction. For her part, Cho stood by the fire, facing Culligan, but not saying a word or expressing any emotion. After a tense silence that lasted a minute but seemed longer, Cho spoke:  
  
"Sorry, Captain, but I refuse the assignment, and I'll tell you why. It really doesn't matter which of us is better. You're still good enough to play against Gryffindor, whether you think it or not. But you'll never know it until you actually get into the stadium and play. And you have to play the last match, just because it's the last match. I don't want to think of you twenty years from now, and your last memory of Quidditch at Hogwarts is wondering what might have been. And I refuse to let that be the cost of my first match for Ravenclaw. When Madam Hooch blows the whistle for that championship match, you will be the Ravenclaw Seeker. You've earned it."  
  
Now the eyes of the room turned back to Culligan, who was actually blushing. After a few seconds when all that could be heard was the crackling of the fire, Culligan glanced around the room, looked at Cho with the biggest smile anyone could remember him wearing, and said softly, "Well, when you put it that way."  
  
The Common Room exploded with cheers. What had been a celebration of victory over Slytherin was now a rally to beat Gryffindor, even though the match was months away.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 20, wherein Cho watches Cups being won and points being awarded, and starts to see some people in a different light. 


	20. Victories and Defeats

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
20. Victory and Defeat  
  
The sun rose early on Friday, 5 June, 1992, but Cho rose even earlier. She watched it make its cautious way over the hills surrounding Hogwarts with an excitement so palpable she could almost taste it. The last exam had been the day before, and ordinarily one would have expected all of Hogwarts to sleep in for a day or two. But there was still the match for the House Quidditch Cup: Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw on the 6th.  
  
Cho was as anxious for the 5th to begin as if it were Christmas morning. This was the last day before the championship; only time for one more practice. Ravenclaw had the stadium in the morning; Gryffindor in the afternoon. Culligan didn't want to waste any daylight; he told the team to have breakfast at 5:00 and be at the stadium ready to start play at 6:00.  
  
Cho wasn't even sure why she was so keyed up; she wasn't playing. She'd actually talked Culligan out of letting her play. Why? This could have been her chance.  
  
Because she understood disappointment, and hated to think Culligan would spend any time at all regretting his decision not to play.  
  
Cho had just pulled a top on, and had pulled her very long hair free of the neck. She had just started brushing it when there was a knock on the dormitory door, followed a second later by Penny Clearwater's head looking in.  
  
"Didn't want to wake everyone," she whispered, loudly enough for Cho to hear. "They want you in the Common Room now."  
  
"They?"  
  
"The whole team. Something's up."  
  
Cho quickly finished getting dressed and dashed down to the Common Room.  
  
Roger Davies was standing in front of the fireplace. Apparently he and the others had been waiting on Cho, and he didn't look too pleased. "Now that we're ALL here, Mackie, tell."  
  
Culligan stood up. "You know about yesterday; me and the Bludger." The Ravenclaw team had actually had to cut their practice short when an especially hard-hit Bludger punched Culligan's shoulder blade. Nothing was broken, but the pain continued into the night. "I was up at dawn, the shoulder still smarting, so I went round to the hospital wing and asked Madam Pomfrey for some liniment. Only she kept me waiting in the corridor; wouldn't let me in. They seemed to be fussing with someone in there, and I thought they mentioned the name of 'Harry Potter.'"  
  
"Cripes," Erasmus Skiddle said in amazement. "That would be too good to be true: Gryffindor playing without Potter!"  
  
"We still don't know, though," Culligan went on. "One of us has to go back to the hospital wing to check things out. The problem is, Pomfrey is obviously trying to keep this under wraps. I mean, I was having a real problem with my shoulder, and she barred me entering."  
  
Jenkins looked around. "Well, if someone wants to put a hex on me; nothing complicated or painful, mind you."  
  
"I'll go," Cho interrupted. "I know Madam Pomfrey will see me. Besides, I wasn't going to take breakfast anyway."  
  
"Fine," Culligan nodded. "Be as quick as you can and meet us at the stadium."  
  
Cho nodded and was briskly off through the bookcase, up the steps, through the tapestry and headed toward the hospital wing. She arrived at the door before she quite realized it, tried the handle, and found it locked. She knocked, and Madam Pomfrey opened the door just a crack.  
  
"Ah, Miss Chang. We have rather a handful at the moment, so I hope you don't mind telling me what's wrong from out there."  
  
Cho averted her eyes. "Well, I'd rather not. It has to do with last September."  
  
"Ah. Well. Just wait there a moment, would you?" Pomfrey closed the door to the infirmary, and could be heard having some sort of conversation. Finally the door opened and Madam Pomfrey motioned for Cho to enter.  
  
The room was as she remembered it after her bone-breaking introduction to the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Only one bed of the dozen of so was occupied, and in this case was surrounded by screens. "What do you need to know, Miss Chang?"  
  
Cho, who had nothing wrong with her, had to think fast. "Well, it's my, er, bust. I mean, after last September, nothing seems to be happening. Is that normal?"  
  
"Bless me, of course it's normal. These things aren't continuous, by any means. They usually come in fits and starts. Nothing to worry about, especially at your age. Does that help?"  
  
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey, it helps loads, thanks." She tried to be casual as she asked, "Who's behind the curtains, then?"  
  
"Someone you're not supposed to know about. Now, if you'll get back to."  
  
"It's Harry, isn't it," Cho blurted out; "Harry Potter?"  
  
Madam Pomfrey eyed Cho very suspiciously. "What makes you say that?"  
  
Think fast, Cho. "Well, we DO know each other and."  
  
Cho let the sentence dangle, letting Madam Pomfrey make of it what she will. For a long minute the professor scrutinized Cho. Finally, someone else knocked on the door. Pomfrey looked at the door, then back at Cho. "You wanted to look in on him, then?" Cho nodded. "Well, he's still unconscious, poor boy. No saying when he'll come around. Probably be here for a few days, no matter what happens. He won't know you're there, of course, but sometimes a friendly presence does wonders."  
  
At this point, Cho's mission was done. She could have excused herself and gone to the stadium, to tell the others what she'd learned. "I . I'd like that, Madam Pomfrey. Thank you."  
  
With that, Madam Pomfrey went to the lone occupied bed on the ward and pulled back the screen. "Just take a minute or two; I don't know how long we can keep this a secret." With that, Pomfrey left the ward.  
  
Cho sat down on the next bed and just looked at Harry's slight, still pajama-clad form, battered and bruised from his encounter in the dungeon the night before.  
  
For the first time in her life, she was an arm's length away from one of the most legendary figures of the Wizarding World. She sat on the bed next to his, and never really knew afterwards if she actually said, or only thought:  
  
So you are Ha Li Po Te; The Boy Who Lived. You hardly look the way I imagined you. I guess I expected someone older, stronger, more-I don't know, heroic, perhaps. But then, you were still a baby when you defeated the Dark Lord. Looking at you now, dead to the world, your glasses on the table, there's still something of the baby in your face. Are you dreaming, Harry? Are you dreaming of the parents you lost on that terrible Halloween night? You must miss them so; I can't even imagine it. Do you still long for a kind word, or a kiss on the cheek, or a bit of a song, or even just a hand to brush that hair out of your eyes.  
  
Cho couldn't help what happened next. No sooner had the thought occurred to her than she found herself reaching over, gently pushing the hair away from Harry's forehead, revealing the jagged scar-  
  
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE?"  
  
Snape. The last voice any student at Hogwarts wanted to hear.  
  
Cho quickly turned and scooted away from Harry's bed. Snap strode toward her, with Madam Pomfrey close behind him.  
  
Snape looked as if he wanted to grab Cho's robes and pull her off the floor. Instead, he glowered down at her. "If you've done anything to harm Mister Potter--"  
  
"You can see she hasn't," Pomfrey interrupted.  
  
"Perhaps you aren't aware," Snape said, turning on Madam Pomfrey, "that she plays Quidditch for an opposing House. She would have her own reason to want Potter out of the way."  
  
"Are you saying she had something to do with what happened last night? You're far too suspicious, Severus."  
  
"And YOU are far too trusting. I shall speak to the Headmaster about the abysmal lack of security in the hospital wing. Now, as for you, Miss Chang- -"  
  
But that was as far as Snape got. Cho had already run out of the room.  
  
xxx  
  
She ran all the way to the stadium. "What's the story?" Jinx Jeffries asked.  
  
Cho was completely out of breath, but tried to speak anyway. "Potter's there. Something about the dungeon. He's unconscious; will be for days, she said."  
  
"YES!" Davies punched the air in triumph.  
  
"You oughtn't look so overjoyed about it," Culligan said to Roger. "He was attacked by something in the school. We could be next, or any other student."  
  
"But you can't deny that we've just caught a break for tomorrow!"  
  
"It still means nothing if we're not ready for tomorrow ourselves. So let's get this practice started, eh?" The Ravenclaws kicked off, including a still-breathless Cho, whose cheeks were a brilliant red, probably because of the wind.  
  
Or perhaps because she recalled her moment in the hospital wing with Harry Potter.  
  
xxx  
  
The next day, Cho went through her ritual: brushing and braiding and spelling up her hair, trimming her nails, carefully eating her very small breakfast, reporting to the stadium to sit on the reserve bench.  
  
She watched from the bench as Ravenclaw played as they had never played before. It wasn't just that Gryffindor was without its Seeker; Ravenclaw brought a spirit to the fight that surprised many in the crowd. The Chasers were fast and sure-eyed in their Quaffle-tossing; the Beaters kept the entire Gryffindor team at bay, including the Weasley twins. Both Keepers had to put in a full day's work during the one hour of play, but Wood of Gryffindor seemed the first to tire and miss simple saves.  
  
And the Seeker duel was no duel at all. Gryffindor had been forced to bring back its pre-Potter Seeker, Henley Walsingham, who had spent the year on the reserve bench. Neither he nor Gryffindor were ready for him to play. So when the Golden Snitch was spotted, only one Seeker chased it as it darted and skipped in-between the players in the middle of the pitch. Culligan took more than one elbow to the body just trying to get close, but when Hooch's whistle sounded, it was Culligan's hand on the Snitch, and 380- 120 on the scoreboard.  
  
Almost everyone in the stands cheered at the outcome. It wasn't just a show of support for Culligan and the Ravenclaws; it was a shout of triumph that, for the first time in seven years, some House other than Slytherin had won the Quidditch Cup.  
  
That night, the Ravenclaw Common Room was jammed with students of every year; food appeared from nowhere and butterbeer flowed freely. But the high point of the evening was when Macarthur Culligan held the Quidditch Cup aloft and waved everyone to silence.  
  
"As you can see, we've engraved the names of the seven players on this team. One of those is the name of your next Captain, Roger Davies, and I hope you show him the kind of respect and loyalty you've shown me during my time here." He paused slightly. "Because I can always come back here and kick yer arses if you don't." Everyone laughed at that, of course, but he waved them to silence again. "But if I could, I'd engrave an eighth name on this cup; the name of a player who didn't play in any of the games this year, but who helped turn this team around nonetheless and give us a winning year. But her name will be up on the Cup one day in its own right, and that's why I'm happy to pass the position of Ravenclaw Seeker into the very capable hands of Cho Chang."  
  
Cho couldn't say a word; she could only smile at Mackie through tears of joy as the Ravenclaws cheered and cheered.  
  
The smile, the euphoria, the cheers carried the entire House through to Monday the 8th, and the end-of-year feast. The Ravenclaws didn't even care that Slytherin had once again won the House Cup; they were only fifty points behind Slytherin in second place, and felt that they had given Slytherin a year it wouldn't soon forget.  
  
The euphoria dimmed somewhat when, at the beginning of the banquet, Headmaster Dumbledore started assigning points to Gryffindor. Of course, they'd all heard the story by that time: how Voldemort himself was not only still alive, although a shadow of his former self, but had been in Hogwarts itself for over a year, attached to Professor Quirrell like a barnacle to a whale. Once again, Harry Potter had confronted the Dark Lord and lived to tell the tale-which was more than could be said for Professor Quirrell.  
  
But it all seemed a little one-sided, all those points going to Gryffindor. "They should have given you points just for getting on the team," Letitia whispered to Cho; "look at what you had to suffer to do it." And it hurt that Ravenclaw was knocked down to third place after the new points were tallied. Still, it looked like the end of the Slytherin Dynasty, and Ravenclaw gladly cheered for that.  
  
And two weeks later, with grades reported and dormitory rooms emptied and the Hogwarts Express rolling over the countryside toward London packed full of students, Cho looked out the carriage window at the woods and meadows, marveling at the year that had just passed, and relishing the Third Year that would soon come.  
  
and remembering the feeling in her fingertips as she brushed a few stray hairs from the forehead of Harry Potter.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 21, wherein the Third Year starts with a shocking discovery and an impromptu discussion in the girls' dorm about what happened in the boys' dorm. 


	21. Third Year Begins

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
21. Third Year Begins  
  
The summer of 1992 was an odd one for Cho Chang; more than at any time in her life, she felt as if she was becoming someone other than herself.  
  
Most of the changes were because of her father. Chang Xiemin had to travel to China to close some business or other related to the shoppe, and ended up staying five weeks. This meant that Cho had to spend more time in the shoppe herself, since her mother couldn't run things alone.  
  
Lotus Chang seemed to take advantage of this by berating Cho at every opportunity: if they ran out of one herb or another, if the display jars weren't angled just so, and even if Cho was thirty seconds late for her turn behind the counter because her mother had asked her to feed Chairman Miao.  
  
Naturally, the time she spent in the shoppe was also time spent away from the Puddlemere Quidditch stadium. Under other circumstances Cho could at least grab her Comet Two Sixty and work off some of her frustrations, but even that was getting harder and harder to do.  
  
The final straw came in early August, when Cho suffered a worse-than-usual bout of cramping. Her mother insisted on mixing up a Chinese potion that was different from the recipe Cho had been using. The Chinese remedy worked, but not as well, and Cho took the unusual step of writing to Madam Pomfrey about her mother's remedy. Quan Yin returned from Hogwarts empty- clawed, but the next day an owl arrived with Cho's school list for the year, a parental permission slip for trips to Hogsmeade(!) and a note from Madam Pomfrey:  
  
"Dear Cho,  
  
It was a bit of a surprise to hear from you; most Hogwarts students want as little to do with this place as possible over the summer! Things have been rather quiet here, with nothing new in the offing except our new Defense Against the Dark Arts master. You'll find out about him soon enough.  
  
As for your question, I've had some experience with the Chinese potion you mention. Two summers ago I attended a WARTS gathering (Witchcraft And Related Topics Symposium) where a paper was presented comparing the efficacy of several different draughts from around the world. The Chinese brew didn't seem to have nearly enough asphodel to do the job, so I asked the panel about it. The witch who described the remedy said that it was intentional. Women have always held a lower status in China than men, and it seems that they just got used to potions that don't work all the way. Apparently, it was supposed to reinforce in the minds of the Chinese witches their second-class status. A pity, really, but there it is.  
  
See you in September (not too often, I hope)  
  
Poppy Pomfrey"  
  
Cho sat stunned, rereading the letter until it finally sank in. She knew. Her mother knew. Her mother knew that the potion wasn't good enough, but insisted that Cho use it anyway. She would rather keep her own daughter in pain, out of some deluded notion of what a Chinese witch is supposed to feel.  
  
For the remainder of the holidays, Cho refused to say a word to her mother. She showed up at the shoppe when she was supposed to, helped the customers on her own, and didn't utter a sound. Within fifteen minutes of her father's return from China, however, Cho was in Puddlemere, pelting up and down the field as quickly as she could. Even her father's gifts to her (an old Snitch carved from a piece of ivory and a new translation of the Analects of Confucius) barely elicited a "thank you" from her. Cho was just as surprised as her parents at how angry she was, even at her father. True, he hadn't done anything but leave the country, but somehow Cho was mad at him, too, for being in on it-somehow. She glared at him as he signed the Hogsmeade permission letter, then snatched it from him as if she feared he would tear it up.  
  
But if Cho's silent rage toward her parents disturbed them, Cho was even more disturbed by the silence from Penny Clearwater. Cho had written Penny about her father bringing back the carved Snitch, but Penny-ever the quick correspondent-hadn't sent word in two weeks. It was almost September; Cho had gotten all her school supplies, and still no word.  
  
Finally, on 30 August, an owl showed up on Cho's bedroom windowsill with a short message:  
  
"Dearest Cho,  
  
I know that you must think me an awful monster for not writing sooner. You have every right to hate me; I'd surely hate myself, except that this summer has been so marvelous that I don't think I could hate anybody ever again!  
  
I'll tell you all about it on the Express, I'm sure.  
  
Penelope"  
  
What was that? Penelope?! Cho had been in Ravenclaw for two years now, and to her and everyone else, Penny Clearwater had insisted on answering to that nickname rather than Penelope! Something had changed her, and Cho would just have to wait to find out what it was.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho arrived on Platform Nine and Three Quarters with fifteen minutes to spare, and began searching the compartments. She found Diana Fairweather and Libby Foggly in one compartment and joined them; Raina al-Qaba entered the carriage just as the train started to pull out.  
  
"Very strange thing I saw just now," Raina said as she stowed her suitcase. "I came through the barrier just ahead of Harry Potter, but when I turned to get in the carriage, I looked around and he wasn't there."  
  
"Probably just waiting for someone," Libby said.  
  
"You're not saying he missed the train," Diana asked.  
  
Raina shook her head, but her face was still troubled.  
  
For the rest of the trip, the four girls were joined by other students of Ravenclaw House-but not Penelope (or Penny) Clearwater. Roger Davies explained that one; Penny had been named a Prefect, and the Prefects usually rode together. That might explain the name-change, but becoming a Prefect didn't seem to be the marvelous something Penny had hinted at. She had to have been describing something else-but what?  
  
Nor did Penny approach Cho during the welcoming dinner, nor in the Common Room afterwards, although Cho waited up until almost midnight. She finally went up to her dormitory, greatly disturbed.  
  
xxx  
  
Apart from this, Cho's third year at Hogwarts started out in a fairly ordinary manner. She was in the Great Hall having breakfast the day after she arrived when a great deal of screaming went up from the Gryffindor table. It was a Howler, directed at one of the Weasleys. Some of the students laughed, but Cho acted as if she heard nothing; she didn't find any joy in anyone else's troubles.  
  
Later that morning, she arrived in the dungeon classroom for her first Potions as a Third-Year knowing just what to do: nothing. She dropped her cauldron onto the table and inventoried the contents again and again. She wasn't about to look at Snape, wasn't going to give him any reason to call on her...  
  
Before Snape or anyone else could say anything, though, another voice piped up: "If you don't mind my asking, Professor, can you tell us about love potions this year?"  
  
That was Betony McQuinch, a Hufflepuff and normally rather levelheaded; dull, even. For her to even think in terms of a love potion seemed, well, as alien as a dragon sauntering through Trafalgar Square at high noon.  
  
Snape didn't even pretend to be surprised. Instead, he gave her such a withering glare that everyone immediately felt sorry for Betony. Until Snape spoke: "It seems that we will begin with an essay, due at the start of the next Potions class. Six scrolls in length; no more, no less. Refer to Arsenius Jigger's "Advanced Draughts and Potions", which is, I believe, required for this year. Read his commentary, on pages 189 to 210, on the legend of Tristan and Iseult, and then tell me why love potions are perhaps the single biggest hazard of the wizarding world."  
  
"It can't be as bad as all that, can it?" Nobody felt sorry for McQuinch now. She should have taken the hint and let the subject drop; now, she'd stepped right back into it.  
  
What had been a slow burn in Snape's eyes flared to life. "Are you accusing me of lying to the class, girl? Or are you saying that I don't understand my own subject as well as you do? If I haven't made myself abundantly clear already, perhaps this will get through your thick little skull: twenty points from Hufflepuff. The matter is closed!"  
  
Most of the Hufflepuffs looked daggers at Betony McQuinch. Not Cho; she'd been there before. Although she had to wonder, as she unpacked her cauldron, why Betony would run such a risk just to find out about love potions.  
  
Friday brought both her first Divination class and Defense Against the Dark Arts. The Divination tower was so hard to find that it put Cho in mind of when she was a First-Year. They finally found the classroom, then waited ten minutes past the start-time for Madam Sibyl Trelawny to make her entrance. When she did, in a riotous ensemble of mismatched scarves and beads, Cho was afraid she'd break out giggling. Madam Trelawny looked-and spoke-like a gypsy fortune-teller from some old Muggle movie. As Cho tried to "focus her inner eye" on the dregs in her teacup (apparently, doing so involved putting one's real eyes out of focus), Cho longed for the year when Madam Trelawny might get around to teaching Chinese divination. Tortoise shells, star charts, yarrow stalks, and especially the I Ching: something grounded in reality.  
  
It was a toss-up whether Trelawny or Gilderoy Lockhart was the more pointlessly entertaining. Friday night after supper, the Ravenclaw Common Room was occupied by an impromptu debate on the topic: "Gilderoy Lockhart: DADA or DUD?" Most of the Ravenclaws agreed that Lockhart's books were, as Cho politely put it, "lightweight". But opinions were split over his abilities as a professor-and his supporters were overwhelmingly female.  
  
xxx  
  
Saturday turned out to be a mess for all concerned with Quidditch. In the morning, Gryffindor had the field, but were forced off by Slytherin. The rumour quickly spread through the Great Hall at noon that Draco Malfoy was the new Slytherin Seeker-and that it had cost his father a full set of Nimbus 2001 brooms for the Slytherin team.  
  
"Does anyone know much about Malfoy?" Cho asked, trying to sound casual.  
  
She didn't succeed. "Nothing to worry about," Roger Davies dismissed her. "He may have gotten in a few hours around the house, but I don't think he's ever played a match. Besides, if his dad had to buy him the spot." Roger left the rest of the sentence hang.  
  
That afternoon, though, history repeated itself, as Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw showed up at the same time. While the faculty heads of the respective houses (Madame Sprout and Professor Flitwick) were summoned to resolve the scheduling, Cho took the opportunity to size up the Hufflepuffs. She was most surprised by Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff Seeker. The last time she saw him play, only a few months ago, he was a slight, even scrawny Fourth Year reserve. Now, however, Seeker Chase- Sanborn had graduated, and Cedric had undoubtedly had what the textbooks call a "growth spurt" over the summer. He not only stood several inches taller, but his body seemed to have filled out a bit.  
  
"Paying a little too much attention to the opposition, aren't we?" Roger whispered into Cho's ear, breaking her train of thought.  
  
"What are you suggesting?" she asked coolly.  
  
"I've already heard some of the witches speaking about how well Diggory's turning out."  
  
"Well, as far as I'm concerned, he's only got more problems as a Seeker. The bigger he is, the harder it'll be for him to get up to speed and maneuver the broom."  
  
"And that's all?"  
  
"All what?"  
  
"You don't feel-anything?"  
  
Cho didn't know whether to be amused or outraged. "I assure you, Captain, that no such thought has crossed my mind about Cedric Diggory!" She then worked her way to the back of the team, before Roger could ask her how she felt about anyone else.  
  
He really wanted to know, and not just for the sake of Quidditch.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 22, wherein Cho, and all of Ravenclaw House, must confront the actions of two of its students. 


	22. Right or Wrong

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG-13 (some material may not be deemed suitable-offstage slash)  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
22. Right or Wrong  
  
Cho awoke on the first Sunday back at Hogwarts with a feeling of foreboding. Something had happened; she could feel it in the air. She had no idea what had happened, but something. Maybe she'd been woken out of sleep by the sound of whatever it was.  
  
She listened; nothing. The dormitory was quiet, except for the breathing of the girls and the purring of one of the cats.  
  
Still, she trusted her instincts. They'd gotten her through practice sessions where she'd dodged Bludgers she couldn't consciously have seen. She walked to the door and tried it.  
  
Locked. From the outside.  
  
This had never happened before. Cho tried the door again, and as soon as she did she heard a muffled voice from the stairs: "Hullo?"  
  
"What's going on?" Cho asked.  
  
"Is that you, Cho?"  
  
"Penny!" Cho recognized the voice as Penelope Clearwater. "Why are we locked in?"  
  
"Look," Penny said, in a clearly nervous voice, "there's been-something's happened. Stay put for a little while, and we'll tell you about it."  
  
"About what?" But Cho already heard the steps running back down the stairs.  
  
"Wha's all this then?" Jan asked sleepily.  
  
"I don't know," Cho said. "We're locked in, and they won't say why."  
  
"Locked in, eh?" smirked Libby Foggly, pulling her wand out from under her pillow. "Not bloody likely: Alohomora!"  
  
The door stayed locked. She tried several times to open it, with no luck.  
  
"You don't think there's another troll about," Letitia asked nervously.  
  
"Not a chance," sniffed Diana Fairweather. "It would have to get into the castle, past the tapestry amd through the bookcase before it could get in here. Mark my words; whatever this is about, they're not worried about something getting in, but of something getting out."  
  
Libby kept trying Charm after Charm, but nothing worked on the door. "They're really serious," she muttered after the Omnikey also proved futile.  
  
About thirty minutes after Cho woke up, the door swung open to reveal Penny Clearwater, dressed in full robes and wearing her Prefects badge. As if she was speaking to a roomful of strangers, she said, "Please follow me to the Common Room", turned and walked down the stairs.  
  
It seemed as if the entire House was squeezed into the Common Room. Cho and her dormitory-mates worked their way around to the bay window, where the others of her year were waiting. No sooner had they gotten there, though, than they heard a repeated chiming.  
  
It was Professor Flitwick, Charms Master and Head of Ravenclaw House, who was using the Tintinabula Charm: striking the air with his wand but producing the sound of a bell. This quieted the students, as they all listened to what the Professor had to say.  
  
"There has been a, well, an incident." Flitwick was so nervous he was almost shaking; nobody could remember seeing him like this. "Happens once every decade or so, but, well, better just say it. Two of our students, Gurney Ingletor and Francis MacGiver, are not here."  
  
Cho looked around and couldn't see them. She tried to recall them; MacGiver was a fairly strong Herbology student and middling at everything else. Ingletor was from Dover and spent a lot of time by himself in the library.  
  
"They are not here," Flitwick went on, "because theyhad committed a serious breach of the code of conduct here at Hogwarts. The particulars need not concern you. Suffice it to say that they are even now on their way back to their families, and what happens to them will be entirely up to their parents. I've called you all together because I've seen through experience that, unless I explain things, all sorts of wild rumours get started. Now you know what's happened, and that's all you need to know. Better get down to the Great Hall for breakfast."  
  
And, just like that, he was gone.  
  
Most of the Ravenclaws simply filed out of the Common Room. The Third- Years-their number now reduced by two-stayed by the bay window.  
  
"Right, you lot," Jan said to the four boys, "wot's he on about?"  
  
Vincent Krixlow seemed to be looking for minute imperfections in his fingernails.  
  
"Not supposed to tell, are we?" Giulio Grimaldi added, with a wide and mocking smile on his face.  
  
"If you know," Letitia said, "tell us quick! Flitwick could be back looking for us!"  
  
"Ask Pablo," Vincent smirked; "he discovered it."  
  
Pablo Molina looked even more nervous than Flitwick. Making sure nobody was coming into the Common Room, he dropped his voice to a whisper. "I just got up around dawn. I was thirsty, and I wanted some water. So I start over to the lav, butI see one of the beds has its curtains open. And I look, and, well, I just run down here to the Common Room. I was in front of the fireplace, trying to figure out what to do, and then I remember what they said on our first day, about how the painting and the Grey Lady are connected somehow, and the next thing I know, Flitwick and the Prefects are coming down."  
  
"Get on with it!" Libby snapped. "What did you see?"  
  
"They were together!" Pablo didn't mean to raise his voice. Now he dropped it again. "They were in the one bed, and no pyjamas."  
  
The Common Room was silent as this sank in. After a minute, Libby Foggly looked at the boys. "Did any of you know?"  
  
"Not a bit of it!" George George Millethammer spoke up. "None of us suspected a thing!"  
  
Vincent nodded. "Coulda been doing it for a week or three years; they kept it hidden."  
  
Grimaldi smirked. "Helluva time to fall asleep on the job."  
  
Letitia shot him a withering look. "Right. Well, Flitwick said that's the end of it, and that's good enough for me. I'm off to breakfast, and I'd advise you to do the same." She swept out without waiting for an argument.  
  
Cho went back up to the dormitory to change; she'd worn her robes over her bedclothes. First, though, she sat on her bed and let her breath out in a large rush, as if she'd been holding it for an hour.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho avoided the rest of her House for the rest of the day, and it wasn't until that night, as she and the other girls were preparing for bed, that she spoke.  
  
"Can I say something, everyone?" she asked. "I want to talk about it."  
  
"Thank you," Diana Fairweather sighed. "Thought I'd burst at the seams unless somebody said SOMETHING!"  
  
"Well, don' expec' me to say ennythin'," Jan grumbled. "It's disgustin' an' unnatural, an' that's all I got ter say."  
  
"Well, then, let the rest of us have a turn," Letitia said.  
  
So the girls sat, each on their own beds. Cho looked around the room, then down at her hands, folded in her lap.  
  
"For years, my parents hated the idea of my playing Quidditch. It wasn't about breaking bones or anything like that. They just assumed that any girl who went out for sports, well, they, er, liked other girls." Cho could feel herself blushing. This was more difficult than she thought it would be. "The fact is, I can't imagine that. I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about boys, actually. But I know how it feels to be suspected of carrying on, you know, like that. I can't imagine that those two wouldn't come back, and I intend to treat them the same way I did before all this."  
  
Jan, scratching Coriander under her chin, glowered as she looked around the room, and didn't say a word.  
  
Letitia, sitting up in her usual perfect posture, with the folds of her nightgown as perfectly arranged as if she were modelling for Witch Weekly, spoke up next. "Well, they certainly knew what they were getting into, and I won't fault them for that. But they certainly should have known that you have to keep up appearances. Especially when it comes to something like this, appearances are all that matters. They could have been keeping up a pretense for months or even years, but that was their business, of course."  
  
"I don't believe you!" Diana Fairweather interrupted. "No thoughts at all about what they did, or whether they should have been expelled at all?"  
  
"Rules are rules," Letitia replied, "and it makes no sense getting emotional about them. You might as well get emotional about a formula in Potions. It was entirely up to them if they wanted to, you know, do whatever they were doing. But it was their responsibility to keep up appearances."  
  
Diana interrupted again. "By the way, does anybody know what part of the code of conduct was broken? I wasn't even aware we had one."  
  
Cho realized that she had no idea either. "Probably buried somewhere in Hogwarts: A History," she guessed.  
  
"Then it's lost forever," Libby chuckled. "Anyway, I don't think what they did was all that bad. I mean, some of the things I've read about the Dark Lord and his followers doing were much worse. Here there was no death and no destruction, so the school should have just let 'em be."  
  
"But they broke the rules!" Jan jumped in, forgetting that she wasn't going to say anything.  
  
"But that doesn't matter," Libby shook her head. "We've seen Snape enforce rules against everyone but Slytherin House. He's made up rules on the spot to punish some pupil or other. And look at Harry Potter; broken more rules than I can count, and nothing happens to him!"  
  
"Nothin' yet, ennyway."  
  
"At least I can understand that kind of rule-breaking," Diana Fairweather said. "I haven't, well, I don't think I've mentioned this to anyone, but I'm a half-and-half. My dad is a wizard who fell in love with a Muggle. I guess it usually works the other way round. Anyway, it hasn't been easy at all. We got prejudice from both sides; some of dad's wizarding friends wouldn't have anything to do with my mum, while some of mum's old friends were scared to death of magic. Had to go to four different schools before I came to Hogwarts; at first they thought I was a Squib, so they sent me to a Muggle school. Then, when I started levitating the canary cage one winter, they found a wizarding school for me. But my first day there-I don't know how they found out, but they emptied the cloakroom and threw things on my desk: always one mitten or one boot. Their way of saying I was only half a person."  
  
"Kids can be cruel sometimes," Libby nodded.  
  
"Not just kids." Everyone was surprised when Raina spoke; somehow they didn't think she'd say anything. "I-I live in a block of flats in the East End. I had a cousin, a girl my age, whose family lived in the next block. We grew up together; we were like sisters.  
  
"It was summer, just days before I got my Hogwarts letter. My cousin was visiting me, and our mothers were visiting in another room. My cousin had an older sister who had just gotten married. We were in my room with the door closed, talking about it. Actually, we were laughing about it; making fun of the whole notion of love and romance, the way that girls will at that age. And after a while, we started teasing each other; you know, 'Do you have a boyfriend?' and 'Where would you go on a date?' And then we." Her voice caught, as she kept her gaze steadily on the floor. "We decided to kiss each other; 'practicing for boys', we said. We were laughing about it. And, as soon as our lips touched, my mother opens the door to see what we were laughing about. Only now she starts screaming at us. She uses words I never heard before. She grabs my cousin by the wrist, pulls her off the bed. My cousin and her mother were out of our house at once, and before a fortnight had passed the family had moved away. I never saw her again."  
  
Raina looked up, and the other girls could see a deeper sorrow in her eyes than they had ever seen. "I don't know about those boys," she said quietly. "I don't even know what it means to punish the guilty. But I know how it feels when you punish the innocent."  
  
The discussion ground to a halt after that. Cho realized that, even though she had been Sorted into Ravenclaw, this wasn't the kind of problem that could be worked out in one night-not even by Rowena Ravenclaw herself. She brushed out her hair, set down the brush, and simply sat at the table, not looking at anything in particular. After a few minutes, though, she took a deep breath, stood up and walked over to Jan Nugginbridge, who was writing in the margins of her Potions text.  
  
"Jan, I just want to say this. I never set out to offend you, or anyone else. I just thought that we needed to talk about it."  
  
Jan looked genuinely puzzled. "Wot d'yeh mean, offend?"  
  
"Well, about those two boys."  
  
Jan closed the book (holding the page with a finger) and smiled at Cho. "My folks tell me I've got a head o' granite, and once I get an idea there's no shiftin' it. An' I think ye're a great friend, and ye'll be a grand Seeker."  
  
"So you didn't mind my talking about."  
  
Jan snorted. "Takes more'n that to change my mind."  
  
Cho went to bed that night more at ease, but also worried. She'd seen a darker side of Jan this day; just as she'd seen her own dark side during the summer. She realized that perhaps, perhaps, nobody was totally as they seemed to be; that everyone had a secret heart. All of a sudden, the world seemed a less comforting, more dangerous place.  
  
And, whatever happened to Gurney Ingletor and Francis MacGiver, the fact remains that they were never again seen at Hogwarts.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 23, wherein Cho finally meets with Penny Clearwater, and finds out how she became Penelope. 


	23. A Whole New World

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
23. A Whole New World  
  
For weeks after the expulsions, it seemed to Cho as if Penny Clearwater was eluding her. She'd wait for Penny to pass through the Common Room, camped out in the daybed at all hours, pretending to read a book while eyeing the traffic to and from the girls' dormitories. Still, she could never seem to catch Penny in the Common Room, or in the Great Hall, or anywhere else in Hogwarts. Maybe they teach Prefects a special spell, Cho thought one morning, which lets them come and go in the blink of an eye.  
  
It was all getting rather obvious. Cho's grades were starting to slip, she wasn't keeping focus at Quidditch practice, and other Ravenclaws were wondering about the attention she was paying to the comings and goings of Ravenclaw girls. But the question had become an obsession with Cho; she had to know.  
  
One night in early October, Cho was on the Common Room daybed, with the Divination text open on her lap but her eyes fixed on the staircase. Roger Davies walked behind her, pretending to scan the bookcase for a title. While he was there, he whispered, "You know, people are starting to talk about you."  
  
"Good," was Cho's reply.  
  
"You WANT a reputation for being, well, a bit creepy?"  
  
"If it gets back to Penny, maybe she'll seek me out. I'm not having much luck finding her on my own."  
  
"What's this all about, anyway? You're supposed to be able to find a Prefect when you need one."  
  
"But I can't-not her, at any rate. She sent an owl this summer about something that happened to her, but left it off before she could say what."  
  
"So that's what this is all about. Should have said something to me sooner; I could have saved you a bit of stalking."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Nip on over to the Dark Arts classroom."  
  
"But nobody's there at this hour!"  
  
"That's the idea." Roger took a book from the case and walked away.  
  
Cho was mystified, but still decided to follow Roger's advice. She dashed toward the Dark Arts classroom, afraid of missing whatever might be happening there. On the way, she had to slow to a walk as she passed one of the Prefects, Percy Weasley of Gryffindor, who gave her a stern look for running through the halls. Fortunately, that was the extent of it, and as soon as he turned a corner Cho put on speed to get to the classroom, which was nearby.  
  
Part of her wanted to burst through the door to catch sight of whatever was in there, but she deliberately held back and opened the door slowly and carefully. She still remembered the late Professor Quirrell, and half expected to see his ghost inside.  
  
What Cho saw instead was no less of a surprise. There was Penny Clearwater, dressed in slacks and a shirt. She had taken off her Hogwarts robes, and had draped them onto a mummy-a visual aid Professor Lockhart had conjured up for one of his lectures. As Cho watched, Penny curtsied politely to the mummy, then covered her mouth with her hands to stifle her giggling.  
  
Cho's curiosity couldn't let this go on. "Er, Penny?"  
  
The other girl whirled around at the disturbance. Seeing it was Cho, she smiled her sunniest smile, ran to the door and dragged Cho by the wrist into the classroom.  
  
"Cho, Cho, I know I should have said something sooner to you! I've been just awful, but the problem is I don't feel awful!" Nor did she look awful; she looked like she would turn back to the mummy and waltz him around the room in a second.  
  
"Well, better late than never," Cho said as she sat in the front row of the classroom. "Now, what happened?"  
  
"Oh, nothing much. Just the most important, most wonderful thing that could ever happen. I'm in love!!"  
  
Maybe she expected Cho to jump up, give a squeal of glee and hug the living daylights out of the older girl. It didn't happen. Instead, Cho nervously cleared her throat and asked, "So that's why you don't call yourself Penny?"  
  
"Oh, I stopped that this summer. Percy was absolutely right about that. He said it made me sound like a child."  
  
"Percy?"  
  
Penelope Clearwater's face started to shine even more brightly. "He's the one; Percy Weasley."  
  
Cho's mouth fell open in spite of herself; she hastily shut it. "You DID say Weasley, didn't you?"  
  
"I know just what you're thinking: that he's like those Beater brothers of his, the practical joking twins. Well, let me tell you, he's not like them at all. He's so-mature, so responsible. Hard to believe they're in the same family."  
  
Actually, Cho was finding much of this hard to believe. "How did this . . . happen?"  
  
Penelope finally sat down. "There was a meeting for the Prefects at the end of last term, just before we all went home. Percy and I sat next to each other, and I didn't think anything of it at the time. But I watched him take notes during the meeting, and his were a lot like mine: very complete, very well written. After the meeting, I asked him to stay a minute, so that we could compare notes. I told him I might have missed something, and wanted to check his version. And-that may not have been strictly true. But we put our books side-by-side on the table, and sat next to each other, and compared notes, making the odd correction now and again. It hardly seems the most romantic hour on earth, but at the end of it, there was-just something between us. Something I'd never felt before.  
  
"After that, of course, we all went home, but we started writing to each other. It got to the point that I couldn't bear the day if Hermes didn't come by."  
  
"Hermes?"  
  
"Percy's owl. He'd bring me a nice lengthy letter from Percy, and I'd write a nice lengthy letter back. And by the time the summer was over, I'd told him all my hopes and fears and wishes, and he'd told me his." Penelope looked back at the mummy, and even Cho now expected to see the Weasley boy wearing them. "To think that he loves me!"  
  
"Well, why not?" Cho chuckled. "I mean, I'm surprised you haven't been involved with anyone before now. You're very sharp-witted; you've been a great Prefect and a good friend. And I'm sure he thinks you're pretty. I'm sure he thinks you're perfect."  
  
Penelope's face suddenly clouded over, as if facing something she had feared. "Ah. Well, there's something about that. You probably don't know."  
  
"Know what?"  
  
"I'm-I'm Muggle-born."  
  
Now Cho understood. There were factions at the school-and in the larger wizarding world-who regarded the Muggle-born as less than true wizards and witches. It didn't matter to Cho one way or the other. One of her parents was a half-and-half, but she considered them both equally magical. "I-I never would have guessed."  
  
"Yes," Penelope sighed. "Funny, isn't it; how some of us take to the magical life so readily while others never do? My parents got used to it all in short order; but then, they live in the country, at Little Wilbraham. Might have been totally different if we'd had the neighbours always poking about."  
  
"Honestly, I don't even think this blood business matters, really. I know some Purebloods who couldn't start a fire if they had a dragon in each hand."  
  
Penelope chuckled. It was the first time that she'd told Penelope a joke and gotten a laugh for it. "But you see why it's important that Percy and I are in love? The Weasleys are an old family of powerful witches. And good ones, too; not like some of the trash in Slytherin. But I met the Weasleys over the summer, and Percy's mum just took me to her heart so quick-it's all so wonderful!" She almost jumped out of her seat. Then she stopped. "Don't you approve, Cho? You've such a queer look on your face."  
  
Cho wasn't aware until Penelope mentioned it. "I'm happy for you, Penny, really-sorry; Penelope. But there it is; it's as if you're Transfiguring into someone different right before my eyes. I guess I still don't know if I like it. But if you're both happy, then that's what matters."  
  
"That's better, then," Penelope said, leaning over to hug Cho. "You look so lovely when you smile. And I'm sorry I haven't written."  
  
"Maybe we can get together and talk more often."  
  
"Well, maybe not. Percy and I try to meet whenever we have the chance, so that we . . . well, you know."  
  
"I know NOW!" Penelope was blushing Gryffindor-red. Cho thought about Percy Weasley, who she'd passed in the hall on the way to the classroom. "I'll just see you when, well, when I see you. And good luck to you!"  
  
"Oh, we already have that, thanks."  
  
Cho went to the door; Penelope still sat in the front row, looking at the skeleton as if it were really someone else wearing Hogwarts robes. Cho doubted that Penelope even heard her leave the room.  
  
This was all very new to Cho. She was used to her parents: a long-time married couple who finished each other's sentences. And she found some student couples embarrassing in their utter shamelessness. They'd be crawling all over each other as if nobody noticed-in shadows and corners, of course, but still.  
  
She was still wrestling with it all when she got back to the tapestry. She gave the password-"obstreperous"-and passed through the bookcase into the Common Room.  
  
This time, Roger was in the daybed, leafing through the biography of "Dangerous Dai" Llewellyn, one of the most foolhardy players in Quidditch history. Surely he couldn't be looking for strategy in there . . .  
  
He looked up when Cho came in. "Find what you were looking for, then?"  
  
"Didn't exactly answer all my questions, I'm afraid, and left me with a few new ones." Cho was about to turn to go up to her dorm, when she turned the other way and sat on a lumpy gray sofa facing the daybed. "Mind if I ask you something, Roger?"  
  
"You can ask me anything about anything."  
  
Cho thought for a few seconds and sighed. "Well, there's a friend of mine. She and I are getting along well, and we have for years, when all of a sudden she says she's in love with someone. And the problem is, well, she's changed practically overnight. Her personality is different, the way she talks; she even calls herself by a different name. And I want to be happy for her, Roger; really, I do. But this all seems so strange."  
  
"Your friend is older, I take it?" Cho nodded. "Then just wait until it happens to you. Won't seem so strange then. It'll seem like the most natural thing in the world."  
  
Cho's brow crinkled as she frowned. "I'm not sure I want it to happen to me. I mean, not if I'll be losing some part of me."  
  
"You're just looking at it from the outside in," Roger smiled. "It's part of you that changes, while part of you stays the same. And, well, maybe I'd better leave it at that. Does that help?"  
  
"Not much, but thanks all the same," Cho smiled as she went up to her dorm. "Is this the voice of experience?"  
  
"Meaning have I ever been in love?" Cho nodded. "Just a bit."  
  
"Well, it doesn't seem to have done you any permanent damage. G'night."  
  
Roger watched Cho climb the stairs, and looked at the stairs for quite some time. Finally he closed the book and said, almost in a whisper, "Most natural thing in the world."  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 24, wherein the Quidditch season is rudely interrupted by a monster 


	24. So Rudely Interrupted

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
24. So Rudely Interrupted  
  
It was as if that talk with Penelope Clearwater lifted some kind of spell. Before, Cho didn't seem to be able to catch sight of Penelope; now, she couldn't help but notice her luxuriant head of long curly hair, either further down the Ravenclaw table, moving in and out of library stacks, staring at book titles on the shelves in the Common Room, dashing through the halls of Hogwarts. Always, however, there seemed to be a sweet sunniness radiating from her, helping to illuminate the old castle.  
  
That's a bit much, Cho thought. Maybe she doesn't exactly give off light, but that's what she seems like.  
  
And the light seemed to be strongest when she was seen sneaking out of some empty room or other. If Cho caught her at this, she usually loitered about for a minute. Sure enough, before the minute was up, Percy Weasley would sneak out of the same room. Although, to tell the truth, he never looked sunny or gave off a supernatural glow. But he did smile a great deal more than usual-at least, when he thought nobody was looking. And he tried to keep his usual serious, fretful scowl on his face, and, to his credit, he succeeded-most of the time.  
  
But Cho didn't really have time to sort out the mysteries of young love yet. She had already marked the upcoming week in the calendar as the most important of the term. Saturday, October 31, would be her first Hogsmeade trip, followed later by the Halloween feast. And the following Saturday would see the start of the Quidditch season, with Gryffindor playing against Slytherin.  
  
xxx  
  
"Bloody unfair, if you ask me," Pablo Molina muttered as the Ravenclaw team practiced early on the morning of the 25th. The weather was awful-a hard, cold rain had pounded the school for days, and looked to be settling in to pound it some more. Still, Roger Davies took them through basic drills twice.  
  
Cho had pulled her broom alongside his, escaping the rain for a few seconds in Pablo's leeward side while she scouted for the Snitch. "I know what you mean," she muttered, stopping to brush back some stray hairs. "But it doesn't come down to the Quidditch Cup; just the House Cup. And Gryffindor beat Slytherin for it. I wish we were playing first game of the season, too. Unless the weather's going to be like this, of course."  
  
"I still say you should have got points just for getting Roger to let you on."  
  
Cho suddenly spotted the Seeker and zoomed away from Pablo. At least, that's how she wanted it to appear. The fact is that, although she took a great deal of pride in her appearance and her accomplishments, Cho could also be shy and reticent. This was a part of her that was always there, but was asserting itself more and more-even in spite of herself. She couldn't quite understand where the mood was coming from.  
  
After ninety minutes, Roger took pity on the team and called time. They landed on the field and rushed into the changing room, where all of them, soaked to the skin, started peeling off their sodden robes, and even the shirts beneath.  
  
Until Cho cleared her throat a little too loudly.  
  
"I hope you don't expect me to tear my clothes off," she smiled sweetly.  
  
A few of the Ravenclaw players blushed profoundly. Roger stepped forward: "You have any better ideas, then?"  
  
Cho swept her wand in front of herself. "Saharid!" As she spoke the Charm, everything on her-clothes, hair, skin-were not only dry but warm as toast.  
  
"Don't recall Flitwick teaching us that one," Erasmus Skiddle said.  
  
"He hasn't. Found it in "Really Useful Charms" by Parsemonious Dingbat. It's in the Common Room." With that, she left the rest of the team cold, wet and half-dressed, and ran toward Ravenclaw. To hell with what some Prefect might say about running in the halls. It was a good day, it'd been a good year so far, and the best week of all was about to happen!  
  
xxx  
  
Halloween dawned with a chill in the air and a sky full of pewter clouds, but at least the rain had stopped. Cho and her dorm mates all came down as one, eating a rather light breakfast in anticipation of sampling whatever Hogsmeade had to offer. Then they wandered the halls of the castle almost aimlessly, waiting only for the time to leave. And when the hour arrived, they were off like a shot down the muddy road to the station. This time, however, they would cross the tracks and enter the village of Hogsmeade.  
  
It was a small Scottish village in some respects. But, because it was entirely made up of wizards and witches, they felt under no pressure to disguise themselves in case of Muggles. The town, in its own way, resembled Diagon Alley more than any other village; it even had, just next to the Post Office, its own Flourish & Blotts bookstore, which was where most of the Ravenclaws gravitated first.  
  
Maybe Cho had hoped to find something rare and unusual even for Hogwarts- some dusty old tome on Druidic practices, perhaps. Instead, to her disappointment, she found mostly the standard Hogwarts texts, plus the usual wizarding newspapers and magazines. There were romance novels by Adelaide Sump McTwiddy which held no interest at all for Cho (she had completely forgotten about trying to read one at age eight). There were, on prominent display, the collected works of Gilderoy Lockhart; but then, they would have been there even if they hadn't been required this year.  
  
But there was also a section on Scottish history, both Muggle and wizarding. There was a book titled "Twenty Things To Do With a Haggis, Apart From Cooking and Eating It." There were accounts of Robert the Bruce and other warriors, biographies of King James and Queen Mary, as well as histories of the Inquisitions against wizarding folk in the Fifteenth Century.  
  
One such incident, Cho had read in "Hogwarts, a History", was about the trial and execution of a monk named Brother Timothy who, although he had attended Hogwarts as a youthful wizard, renounced magic when he took holy orders. His devotion to the church meant nothing when he was convicted and executed for his past history of witchcraft. At the last possible second, though, wizards from Hogwarts, who had gotten word of the Inquisition, spirited away Brother Timothy, now more dead than alive. The Potions master, Nicholas Flamel, wasn't able to save Timothy's life, but the monk's spirit, in gratitude to the old school that hadn't turned its back on him as he had on Hogwarts, was allowed to become a ghost, now known only as the Fat Friar.  
  
"'Ere, come on, Cho!"  
  
Jan was calling her from the door. With a start she realized that she had spent a full hour in Flourish & Blotts; there wouldn't be any time to explore the rest of Hogsmeade! She quickly looked around-and there it was: a slim, black-bound collection of the verses of Robert Burns. She bought it, without knowing exactly why.  
  
From there they were off down High Street. Students were packed five deep into Honeyduke's Sweetshop, yet they waited on line to buy some of its legendary chocolate. They passed by Zonko's Joke Shop just as Fred and George Weasley ducked inside. Cho followed them in, but stayed close by the door, trying to be inconspicuous in the crowded store.  
  
"Don' yeh want yer look 'round?" Jan asked in a whisper. She could tell Cho was on some sort of secretive mission.  
  
Cho shook her head as she watched the Weasley twins sample one trick candy, device and explosive after another. Finally, they made their purchase, and- satisfied that there was nothing that Gryffindor could use against them in a Quidditch match-she ducked out as she had come in.  
  
Many of the students had hit the Three Broomsticks first thing, partly because it was closest to the station, but also because the food and drinks were rumoured to be among the finest kind. In any case, by the time Cho got there, the public room had largely emptied out except for some Ravenclaws (who knew enough to wait until things quieted down) and some Slytherin (who didn't like having to rub shoulders with riffraff). So it was that Cho found herself seated next to Marcus Flint, Captain of Slytherin's Quidditch team.  
  
"I'm going to enjoy playing against you this year," he said menacingly, glowering at her over his butterbeer.  
  
Cho smiled back. "I always suspected you were a masochist, Flint."  
  
It took a few seconds for that one to sink in; when it did, Flint angrily slammed his drink down onto the table. "You don't know what you're in for! We've all got new brooms; Nimbus 2001!"  
  
"For all I care, all the Slytherins could have sprouted batwings over the summer. We'll still outfly you and outscore you when the time comes."  
  
"Games aren't won by talk, Chang."  
  
"You'd know, of course, since you won your last game-what is it, two years ago now?"  
  
Flint was on his feet and looked as if he wanted to punch Cho out, girl or not. But then he realized that most of the eyes in the place were on him, including Madam Rosmerta's. Swearing under his breath, he stormed out of the Three Broomsticks. Cho and Jan were at least polite enough to wait until Flint slammed the door before they burst out laughing.  
  
"Do yeh believe the nerve o' that great oaf?" Jan said, pulling on her butterbeer. "Cripes, that's good!"  
  
"He must never have heard the old saying," Cho smiled. "Don't get into a battle of wits with a Ravenclaw . . ."  
  
They finished in unison: "if you've got no ammunition!" They started laughing again.  
  
xxx  
  
Most of the Hogwarts students stayed in town until the last possible minute- Hogsmeade trips were few and far-between, and sometimes winter trips were cancelled if the weather was too rough. But they knew they had to hurry back to the castle to change robes in time for the Halloween feast.  
  
As soon as Cho walked into the Great Hall, she knew this one would be the best yet. Hagrid had grown gigantic pumpkins for the occasion-some of them as big as carriages. Bats were flying across the starry ceiling. There wasn't any food on the tables yet, but the smells drifting up from the kitchen were wonderful.  
  
It took Albus Dumbledore a minute to subdue the chattering students.  
  
"As you all know, this is a day prized above all in the wizarding calendar, both for its traditional meanings and its more modern, er, associations." Dumbledore glanced at the Gryffindor table; his countenance fell, almost imperceptively. "It is a day when Muggles disguise themselves, perhaps to ward off the Fates. Be that as it may, you also will be playing two roles tonight: diners at our feast, but, first, spectators at a performance by the finest troupe of skeletal performers on the Continent: Cirque d'Os!"  
  
There's been rumours that a skeletal trio would perform, and, no sooner did Dumbledore sit down than three skeletons danced in front of the Head Table. They started with some precision tap-dancing (of course, being skeletons on a stone floor, tapping came naturally to them). They swapped arms and other body parts in mid-dance, and played a brief game of keep-away with one of their skulls. But, just when it looked as if the act was over, the three dancing skeletons rattled their fingers, and another two dozen skeletons (unnoticed until now) leapt from the walls of the Great Hall.  
  
What happened next could only be called a spectacle, as skeletons performed all over the Great Hall-on the tables, in the windows, at the doors. One group got up a game of rounders between the tables; others juggled bits of themselves. A half-dozen skeletons formed a bridge over the tables while two others staged a sword-fight (although they used thigh-bones for swords and hip-bones for shields). At last, after dancing a spectacular jig during which they traded body parts at a dizzying pace, they all jumped over the tables and back to the walls, to thunderous applause.  
  
For the rest of the feast, the performance was all that the students could talk about. The trip to Hogsmeade seemed forgotten.  
  
Except by Cho Chang.  
  
Following Dumbledore's introductory speech, she had thrilled to the dancing skeletons, but now, as everyone ate pumpkin pudding and trifle, the Headmaster's words came back to her. To Muggles, Halloween was a day associated with magic and evil; in the wizarding world, it was the anniversary of Voldemort's defeat at the infantile hands of Harry Potter.  
  
But Cho had noticed Dumbledore's hesitation, looked at the Gryffindor table, and realized what he had realized: Harry Potter wasn't there.  
  
To say that Harry must have had mixed feelings about Halloween seemed an understatement. It was also, after all, the day he lost his parents. Cho wondered if that was why Harry wasn't there; perhaps Halloween would be, to him, the saddest day on the calendar. As she ate and thought about it, she realized that she still had with her the copy of Burns' poems she had bought in Hogsmeade. She resolved within herself to try to find Harry-that night, no matter where he had gone-and give him the book as a cheering-up present-one Seeker to another, of course. Nothing beyond that.  
  
But even as she was swept up in the crush of students going back to the dormitories after the feast, thinking about what to say to Harry, wondering about the look on his face . . . she didn't realize at first that traffic seemed to be jammed up somewhere on the second floor.  
  
Cho, being shorter than most of the students her age, couldn't tell what was happening. "Can you see the hold-up?" she asked Vincent Krixlow.  
  
"It's Harry Potter. Seems he's killed Filch's cat."  
  
"Alright, then; don't tell me."  
  
Krixlow was about to respond, but instead he shrugged. "I'm easy."  
  
Jan, meanwhile, was on tiptoe trying to see over the crowd, when Cho heard her gasp and saw her eyes go wide.  
  
"Cho," she said, barely above a whisper, "I reckon it's true!"  
  
Cho pushed her way past a dozen students to see the scene: Mrs. Norris's tail was tied to a torch set into the wall. She looked stiff as a board. On the wall, painted in large red letters, were the words:  
  
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED  
  
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE  
  
Dumbledore sent the students on to their Houses, detaining Harry and a couple of his friends. Hardly any of the others said a word. The first to speak among the Third-Year Ravenclaws, though, was Jan Nugginbridge. As she was getting ready for bed, her cat Coriander came into the dorm from the hallway. Jan picked her cat up and rubbed its nose with her own.  
  
"Good job about Filch's cat, though, innit?" she said to Coriander.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 25, wherein the first Quidditch match and the second attack prompt an exchange of owls. 


	25. A Trio of Owls

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
25. A Trio of Owls  
  
Sunday, 8 November 1992  
  
Dear Mummy and Daddy,  
  
It's 10:00 p.m. and I'm just starting this scroll. By all rights you should have gotten this letter by now. I usually write Sundays before breakfast, as you know. It's a quiet time in the dorm, and I can put my thoughts in order. But this weekend, all over Hogwarts, order is in very short supply!  
  
I'll start at the beginning. I told you last week about the strange circumstances involving the caretaker's cat. Headmaster Dumbledore made the announcement that the cat would be restored with a mandrake potion, except that the plants we have here are still too immature, and it will take the better part of the school year for them to grow to proper potency. I really wish I knew as much about herbs as you do; I think somebody could make up a proper restorative potion with ginseng much more quickly.  
  
Anyway, nobody seemed to know what the writing meant that referred to the "Chamber of Secrets". Our Professor Flitwick must have heard some very nasty rumours; all he would do was shudder when asked and say it was all before his time.  
  
We finally got some answers from Professor Binns, the ghost who teaches History of Magic. He hates being asked questions that have nothing to do with the assignment, but so many students have asked him about the Chamber that he told us the story just to have it over and done. But he was quite clear: he wanted us to pay attention to the facts of the history, and not to the wild rumours that have grown up around the facts.  
  
The facts, then:  
  
The notion that there is a Chamber of Secrets goes back to the days when Hogwarts was first founded by the four wizards whose names live on in the Houses. One of those Founders, a Dark Arts specialist named Salazar Slytherin, got into an argument with the other three. They had been recruiting students with magical talent, without regard to whether the child's families were magical or Muggle. Slytherin wanted students from magical families only. His reason seemed to be for protection: a student with Muggle relatives might betray the school's location, and they'd wake up one morning surrounded by a hundred archers. (Of course, these days there are ample secrecy spells; the school is quite able to look after itself. But perhaps it wasn't so able a thousand years ago.)  
  
In any case, Slytherin left Hogwarts sometime later. But not, the story goes, before he created a corner of the castle called the Chamber of Secrets. Binns told us that the "heir of Slytherin" is supposed to be able to open the Chamber and release some dreadful monster within. This monster is then supposed to attack the unworthy-I suppose that means the Muggles.  
  
Well, I had no way of knowing whether a cat could be either magical or Muggle, so, even hearing all this, I put it down to a childish prank. (Gryffindor has a couple of Beaters whom I wouldn't put it past to stage something like this.) Do you remember my writing about my friend Penny Clearwater-oops, she now prefers Penelope. She's Muggle-born, and I did ask her to be on her guard, just in case, but she laughed it off. I decided to do the same.  
  
That brings me to this weekend. Yesterday was the first Quidditch match of the year. I had hoped Ravenclaw would play, defending its Quidditch Cup, but the first match was between Gryffindor and Slytherin.  
  
Do either of you know Lucius Malfoy? He's head of some wealthy old wizarding family and on Hogwarts' Board of Governors. His son Draco Malfoy was just made Seeker for Slytherin House-largely, I suspect, because his father bought the entire team new, top of the line Nimbus 2001 brooms. Of course, a move like that usually indicates that money needs to be thrown around to cover up a lack of talent, but Draco isn't half-bad a flier. Although I think he's be better as a Chaser than a Seeker. I suspect he wanted that spot only because of some long-standing feud-he seems to take everything personally where Ha Li Po Te is involved. It's as if they always have some sort of personal score to settle when they play Quidditch. But I'm getting away from events.  
  
Ha Li Po Te was Seeker for Gryffindor again, and, even though he's Second- Year, he seems to have settled into his position and was doing quite well. That is, until it started raining and one of the Bludgers decided to attack him and him alone. Madam Hooch told me afterward that it had to have been enchanted-only the Golden Snitch has a mind of its own-but she couldn't find any evidence of a spell. Meanwhile, Harry was trying to find the Snitch while doing some brilliant evasive flying to dodge the Bludger. Sure enough, he found it and caught it, winning for Gryffindor, but he must have gotten turned round in the rain. He didn't realize how close he was to the ground; the Bludger had broken one arm and, when he caught the Snitch with the other, he lost control and crashed into the pitch.  
  
That shouldn't have been such a problem-as I know from the broken bones I suffered in my Second Year. But then, Professor Lockhart comes up and, instead of sending for Madam Pomfrey, tries to heal Harry's arm by himself. All he did was make it worse; he Charmed every single bone out of Harry's arm! Madam Pomfrey nearly had a fit when she arrived. She took Harry back to the hospital wing, to stay there overnight while she regrew the bones.  
  
What does any of that have to do with the Chamber of Secrets? Just this: this morning before breakfast, I snuck down to the hospital wing. I wanted to see if Harry was healed yet, maybe say a word or two congratulating him on a match well played. But I couldn't get in to see him. There were several faculty there, including the Headmaster. It seems that, during the night, there had been another attack. This time, it was a student: Colin Creevey, a rather obnoxious First-Year Gryffindor, forever taking pictures of the entire school and everyone in it. Most important, though, he is a Muggle-born Gryffindor. He wasn't dead, but he was paralyzed the same as the cat.  
  
I know what you must be thinking. Part of me wonders why I'm telling you this; it would probably put you in a dead panic. But, on the other hand, I think it's better that you heard all the details from me, rather than hear a few rumours and have to wait to have them sorted out.  
  
I've looked at the options. In the worst of all possible worlds, there is a monster of some sort somewhere in Hogwarts. If the legend is true, it will attack only the Muggle-born (although how it will make out one student from another is beyond me). If it attacks only the Muggle-born, I'm safe. If, however, it goes after other students as well, I know enough to leave Hogwarts-on my own broom if need be! On the other hand, this all could be some cruel trick played by a student with a twisted sense of humour, in which case I can certainly stay out of harm's way.  
  
All of which is to tell you: please don't worry about me! Headmaster Dumbledore and the faculty have given assurances that those already paralyzed will be restored, and that the mystery will be solved.  
  
I expect this week will be far less crazy!  
  
Love  
  
Cho  
  
***  
  
Quan Yin returned with the reply in the middle of Monday night's dinner:  
  
Monday, 9 November 1992  
  
Dear Cho,  
  
The very fact that you judge yourself as mature enough to take care of yourself in your situation tells me that your judgment is not mature at all! A student has been attacked and is in hospital. Nobody there has any idea what attacked him, or whether there will be another attack. A truly mature person would appreciate the danger, but you do not.  
  
Accordingly, I have enclosed your ticket for the Hogwarts Express of 21 December. You will come home for the Christmas holidays, and at that time we shall discuss, as a family, whether that school is too unsafe for you to return. Hogwarts may have the reputation of being the best wizarding school in Britain, but it is certainly not the only school. There are others, smaller and closer to London, where you can study, while living with us in Diagon Alley.  
  
I honestly think such a solution would be for the best, and I think that, if you consider the idea dispassionately and sensibly, like the Ravenclaw you say you are instead of the impulsive little Horse you sometimes become, you will agree with me in this matter.  
  
Mother  
  
* * *  
  
Cho didn't even finish dinner. She dashed up to her dormitory and started writing a reply. She wrote a few lines, then angrily spelled them off the parchment. She tried again, and again stopped to erase what she had written. The third time, she didn't erase the parchment scroll; rather, she tore it in two.  
  
That actually helped calm her down. She got a fresh parchment, took a few deep breaths, and started writing again:  
  
9 November 1992  
  
Dear Mummy,  
  
I've done as you said, and considered whether I should stay at Hogwarts, since there may be an unknown, possibly lethal, monster about the place. I am sending back the ticket.  
  
For every reason you can think of to leave, I can think of two reasons to stay. Classes are in session, and I would be at a disadvantage if I left this school and started at another. If, in fact, a new school would let me start at once; I might have to wait until a new term.  
  
Also, I expect to finally make my debut as the Ravenclaw Seeker at the school's next match. Were I to withdraw now, I would be hurting the entire team. We have worked long and hard to prepare for this match. Never mind how I would feel; leaving them in the lurch would be a betrayal.  
  
Finally, nobody really knows the level of danger at Hogwarts, since nobody knows if there even is a Chamber of Secrets, much less what might have come out of it. I will certainly reconsider my decision if there is another attack before the holidays. Until then, I have made up my mind: here I am and here I shall stay!  
  
Cho  
  
She reread the letter twice before tying it and the ticket to Quan Yin's leg. "Sorry you didn't get more of a rest," she said as she opened the window and let the owl out. She watched it disappear into the night sky.  
  
Cho had a pretty good idea how her mother would react to the letter. Well, she thought, this isn't the first time she's defied her mother's wishes. And it probably won't be the last!  
  
* * *  
  
to be continued in part 26, wherein Cho watches an example of dueling wizards 


	26. The Wizard Within

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
26. The Wizard Within  
  
Whatever the monster was and whatever it wanted, it seemed to have been satisfied by the attack on Colin Creevey. Nothing was heard from it for weeks afterward.  
  
Not that the student body of Hogwarts didn't take matters seriously. Books were pulled down from dusty library shelves-some of them for the first time in decades-in attempts to find out what the monster might be and how best to counter it. Some of the more enterprising students started a brisk business selling protective amulets, crystals and plants to those who wanted "protection". Students quizzed teachers relentlessly; even Madam Hooch was repeatedly grilled about the Chamber of Secrets until she finally barked at a group of First-Years: "Knock it off! I may know every blade of grass in the stadium, but I know damn-all about any Chamber of Secrets in the castle! Now get on your brooms before I start attacking!"  
  
Some teachers tried to proceed with the business of teaching magic to the students, and Cho, among others, liked it that way. Dwelling on any possible attack did no good. Best to stick to a routine; it keeps the mind from flying away and imagining all sorts of monstrous possibilities. Of course, she had her own ritual to look forward to: rising early on a Saturday morning, arranging her hair, filing her nails, eating a very light breakfast, putting on her Quidditch robes and finally-FINALLY-taking her Comet 260 into the sky as the Ravenclaw Seeker. That game was scheduled to happen just before the Hogwarts Express took everyone home for the holidays; everyone, it seemed, but Cho.  
  
Two days before the match, on the 19th of December, a piece of parchment on the notice board near the Great Hall caught everyone's attention. It announced the formation of a Dueling Club, with the first lesson that evening at 8:00.  
  
"Kind of ol'-fashioned, innit?" Jan said to Cho as they went in to breakfast.  
  
"Sounds like fun to me," replied Erasmus Skiddle.  
  
"Well, it shouldn't." That was the voice of Professor Flitwick, whose head barely came up to the students' waists. "I expect you'll all go to this, this thing. However, let the others know that I will be meeting with all of Ravenclaw House in the Common Room directly afterwards." With that, Flitwick strode toward the Head Table, with as serious and concerned a look on his face as any of them had ever seen.  
  
xxx  
  
At the appointed hour, most of Ravenclaw was back in the Great Hall, where the dining tables had been pushed together to form a makeshift stage. Professor Gilderoy Lockhart dropped another notch in Cho's estimation as he tried to pass himself off as an experienced duelist, only to be flattened by Professor Snape.  
  
A few students were called to the stage; Harry was pitted against Draco Malfoy. But from the first swish of a wand, it wasn't a duel: it was a brawl. Cho watched in shock as students threw all sorts of hexes back and forth, ranging from tickling fits to uncontrollable dancing. Some of the students abandoned their wands altogether and started fistfights.  
  
Cho was about to leave the Great Hall in disgust when she heard Malfoy yell "Serpensortia!" She turned to see that he had conjured up a ten-foot-long black mamba; a very nasty snake with very deadly venom. Lockhart tried (and spectacularly failed) to halt the snake. That was left--to Harry Potter, who calmed the snake down immediately by hissing to it. Nobody had ever seen anything like that before, and Harry's friends rushed him out of the hall. That effectively ended the Dueling Club.  
  
"What do you think that means?" Letitia Groondy asked as they made their way back to Ravenclaw.  
  
"It means Potter's a Parselmouth," said Libby Foggly. "That's rare, that is, and it means you're a Slytherin or a servant of the Dark Arts."  
  
"Well, Potter's neither one!" Penelope Clearwater said indignantly; then, less sure, she asked, "He isn't, is he?"  
  
"It's logic, isn't it? The only Parselmouths have been students of the Dark Arts."  
  
"That's not logical," Cho answered Libby back. "Maybe Parseltongue is just another wizarding talent, like flying or casting Charms. There could have been, say, a Hufflepuff Parselmouth who kept it hidden precisely because of the associations with the Dark Arts."  
  
"Why are you so quick to defend Harry Potter?"  
  
"It's not about Harry Potter!" Cho said, a bit too loudly. "Not just about him, anyway. I'm just pointing out the flaw in your argument."  
  
They kept on debating about Parselmouths all the way to the Ravenclaw Common Room. It was almost impossible to find a seat, since most of the rest of the House was already there. Cho found a space behind the daybed where Roger Davies was already sitting, squeezed between other members of the Quidditch team.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Although they couldn't see him, the voice of Professor Flitwick carried over the babble of the students. Once they quieted down, the tiny professor stood on a low table in front of the fireplace. Even so, only his head was visible, bobbing on a sea of black robes.  
  
"I assume that most of you were at the so-called Dueling Club tonight. It became just what I was afraid it would become: a shambles, a common brawl, and a disgrace to Hogwarts and everyone in it."  
  
"But, Professor," Pablo spoke up, "we've heard rumours that you were a duelist yourself once."  
  
Professor Flitwick sighed and wiped his face with his hand. "I had hoped not to discuss any of this, but it looks as if I must. You, there by the ladder; Mister Krixlow, isn't it? Could you hand me down the large green volume on the shelf just above your head, please?"  
  
Vincent turned and pulled down the hefty book; several Ravenclaw hands passed it up to Professor Flitwick. He set the book down on the table and turned to an inner page. He then drew out his wand and pointed it at the book: "Projectos!"  
  
There suddenly appeared next to the professor a translucent image of a picture from the book. This wizard was handsome, tall and lean, with a rugged jaw, an elaborately twirled mustache, and sparkling pale brown eyes behind his spectacles. The imager towered over Professor Flitwick.  
  
"Have any of you seen this image before?" Nobody answered. "So none of you recognize who this wizard might be." He looked around the room in embarrassment. "The fact is, the book is one I wrote a long time ago, on two-handed Charming-casting two spells at once, you see. As for the picture, well, this is me."  
  
Students actually gasped. This was impossible.  
  
"Let me be more precise. This is me as I used to be, some two hundred years ago. Before I had the misfortune to take part in a duel.  
  
"I was in University at the time, in Avalon. I was specializing in Charms and Hexes and was making a name for myself. Unfortunately, I was also competing with another student for the attentions of a certain witch. My rival, Cromwell Jinkers, challenged me to a duel, and I accepted.  
  
"We met at dawn in one of the classrooms. It was my intention to hit him with a favourite combination of mine: Levitation and the Tarantellegra. I just wanted to dance him across the ceiling for a few minutes, to make the point that I was an expert in my field. Jinkers, who was not an expert, decided to strike before the three-count was over, as Mr. Malfoy did a few minutes ago. In my case, he Hexed me full-force with the Diminuendo."  
  
The students kept looking back and forth, between the rakishly handsome young man and the wizened little dwarf. After a minute, Flitwick closed the book with his wand, and the image beside him vanished.  
  
"Needless to say, my affaire de coeur ended that day, when I ceased to cut such a dashing figure. My interest in dueling also ended that day, since I learned something very important. It's the reason you are all gathered here. Duels may seem like harmless displays, a chance to show off your knowledge of Charms and Hexes. That is what the rules dictate. My opponent decided to throw out the rules, which made all the difference.  
  
"When you become involved in a duel, you do not merely pit your knowledge against your opponent's. Duels reveal the wizard within-the capacity for fair play and for sound judgment. Duels show whether your opponent-and you yourself-will play by the rules, bend them, or break them beyond repair. They can be exceedingly dangerous, as I had occasion to find out."  
  
"Professor," Libby Foggly spoke up. "At the end of the duel, we saw Harry Potter speak to a snake in Parseltongue. And some of us were wondering; have you ever heard of a Parselmouth who wasn't interested in the Dark Arts?"  
  
"You already know the answer to that question, Miss Foggly. You were there, were you not?"  
  
"Yes, Professor."  
  
"Then tell me what happened."  
  
"Malfoy conjured up a snake with the Serpensortia, and Potter spoke to it."  
  
"Is that all that happened?"  
  
"No, sir. Snape, pardon, Professor Snape started to get rid of the snake, but Professor Lockhart stepped in and blasted it across the room instead. The snake turned on one of the spectators, and that's when Potter spoke to it."  
  
"And then, what happened?"  
  
"Nothing happened. The snake stopped."  
  
"Precisely," beamed Professor Flitwick. "The snake stopped! Mister Potter did not conjure up the snake himself, but, with limited time and abilities, his first impulse was to stop the snake from harming others. This is what I meant when I said that a duel reveals the wizard within. This evening, we looked into the mind and heart of Harry Potter, and we did not see a servant of the Dark Arts. So, to answer your question, I did not know of a Parselmouth who didn't embrace the Dark Arts-not until tonight."  
  
With that, Flitwick dismissed the students, sending them to their dormitories for the night. Cho walked upstairs in a happier frame of mind than when she had returned that evening. Ha Li Po Te a student of the Dark Arts? It was absurd. After all, Potter had saved that boy-whoever he was- from the snake.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 27, wherein Cho's good mood is entirely undone in the space of twenty-four hours . . . 


	27. Fair

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
27. Fair  
  
Friday night, Cho Chang sat on the edge of her bed, serenely brushing her hair, black and shiny as polished onyx. She looked through the dormitory window at the snow, which had started heavily falling that morning and had yet to let up, without giving it a serious thought.  
  
Of course there'll be a Quidditch match tomorrow, she thought. A little thing like snow doesn't stop a real player. It wasn't just Bludgers and the occasional Curse that earned "Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn his nickname; nor was it the stunts he pulled, flying too close to the stands or the ground or other players, closer than a sane wizard would dare. He also must have flirted with frostbite a dozen times in his career. If that one mediwitch, at that match in Oslo, hadn't spelled his feet from the ground with a Warming Charm, with his boots soaked with slush and turning to ice and the wind well below zero-well, he could have lost some toes to frostbite, but he didn't. He knew the risks of the game, and kept on playing.  
  
Cho tried to keep a surface as still as a pond on a windless summer day as she turned down the covers and prepared to go to sleep. Inside, however, she was jumping in six different directions. Tomorrow, Saturday 19 December, 1992 was almost here. Ravenclaw would play Hufflepuff and Cho Chang would finally, FINALLY, rise up off the bench to take her place in the air as the Ravenclaw Seeker. Finally.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho was awake just before sunrise. She dressed herself in something warm but not confining; her favorite pair of knockabout trousers and a bronze- coloured turtleneck sweater. As part of her ritual on game day, she spelled her hair up and out of the way; she filed her nails down to almost nothing.  
  
By this time the sun was up-except nobody could see it. The snow was still falling, giving a look of bright fog to the sky. Surely Hagrid's taken care of it, she thought as she prepared to go down to the Great Hall for breakfast.  
  
Except that, in the Common Room waiting for her, sat the rest of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.  
  
And Madam Hooch.  
  
The instructor took a few steps toward Cho, who had frozen on the bottom step. "Cho, they asked me, the team, that is, asked me to tell you . . ."  
  
"Is something wrong? My parents-are they all right?"  
  
"It's not about them. It's about . . . the match."  
  
Even though Cho's brain felt as if it had locked up and stopped working, her head started to shake, and her lips already half-formed the word "no".  
  
"The drifts are just impossible. It's been twenty-four hours of snow with no let-up. Madam Sprout can't even get to the greenhouses."  
  
"No," the word finally escaped Cho's lips. "No, there's going to be a match, there has to be . . ."  
  
"Wait!" Hooch had actually had to grasp Cho by the shoulders. The instructor's eyes, golden like a hawk's, locked onto those of the Seeker. "There's another reason. Last night, there was another attack. Two victims. A Hufflepuff student, and one of the ghosts: Nearly Headless Nick. Both frozen into statues. So the faculty decided that it wasn't a good time to . . ." Her voice trailed off helplessly.  
  
Cho wrenched herself free of Madam Hooch's grasp and ran out into the corridor. She ran without thinking until she came to the Great Hall. Nobody else was there. She was no longer even sure why she was there. She walked over to the Ravenclaw table and slumped onto the bench. As soon as she did, a golden plate appeared on the table, courtesy of the house-elves.  
  
Cho picked up the plate with both hands, raised it above her head and, making a sound somewhere between a groan and a snarl, threw it across the room. She immediately collapsed, crying into her arms, which were folded on the table. She cried there for five minutes, and during that time only spoke once.  
  
"It's not fair," she sobbed into the table. "Damn it, it's not fair!"  
  
When she had cried herself out, Cho realized that she was in the Great Hall, and hoped that she hadn't acted an utter fool in front of too many people. The only thing worse than missing her debut as Ravenclaw Seeker would be missing it, and making a spectacle of herself in the process. She raised her head, and saw that there was only one other person there, watching her from the other side of the Ravenclaw table.  
  
The Grey Lady.  
  
The ghost sat on the bench, back as stiff as a chair's, her hands folded demurely on her lap, and looked at Cho with a kind of sorrowful compassion.  
  
Cho, her own eyes still red from crying, looked at the Ravenclaw ghost for a moment as if at a stranger. After all, since her first day at Hogwarts, Cho had only seen the Grey Lady a handful of times.  
  
But at that moment, Cho couldn't be bothered with how she looked to the Grey Lady. "Well, what would you call it? It's not fair, is it? I mean, I worked for years-YEARS-to be a Seeker, and when I finally get the chance, they take it away because of . . ."  
  
Cho finally stopped and remembered why the match had been canceled, and to whom she was complaining. She blushed profoundly, and even had a momentary impulse to bow to the Grey Lady. Instead, she cleared her throat. "Forgive me, ma'am; that was very rude of me. I'm sure you're worried about Nearly Head-sorry, about Sir Nicholas."  
  
The Grey Lady sat there, saying nothing.  
  
"It must be awful. I mean, nothing is supposed to be able to harm a ghost, and now this. It's like my mum says, I guess: 'If you think you have trouble, just go next door and listen to them.'"  
  
The Grey Lady said nothing.  
  
"Sometimes I think she's Hexed me-my mum, I mean. She never wanted me to play Quidditch, and so far I haven't. Not a real match, I mean; just practice. Today was supposed to me the day. Finally, finally, today I'd have a match. And what happens? A blizzard AND a monster. Doesn't it sound like a Hex to you?"  
  
Cho stood and started pacing back and forth, a bitter smile on her face. The Grey Lady said nothing.  
  
"Can I tell you the worst part? I hate my mum for trying to keep me off Quidditch, and then I hate myself for hating mum. It's just-I go round and round between the two, and I can't seem to stop."  
  
Cho sat down again at the Ravenclaw table.  
  
"Is this what is was like for you-growing up, I mean; not the monster and all the rest of it. It feels as if I don't know about anything anymore. That's how it seems, anyway. I wasn't like this a year or two ago; I know I wasn't. Things were . . . simpler, and I was simpler."  
  
If she understood Cho, the Grey Lady didn't give any indication.  
  
"Mum would say it's my fault; no, that's not quite what I mean. In Divination, when we're using the I Ching, she taught me that, if you don't like the answer you get, maybe it's because of the way you asked the question. Change your question to change the answer. I can't believe it's supposed to be just that simple."  
  
Still the ghost said nothing, but seemed to be looking searchingly at Cho.  
  
"I don't know why," Cho finally said, "but I really think that you know the answers. I really think that you can help me-more than the Prefects, more than my parents. You've been here such a long time, you must know such a great deal. Not just about magic and Hogwarts; about me, or girls like me. You see, I . . . I don't want to tell this to anyone else, but sometimes I just don't know which way to turn. So many new and strange things are happening, and I'm supposed to be able to handle them all. But what if I can't handle them all; I'm afraid to show that. My parents expect so much of me, and I guess I expect so much of myself . . ."  
  
The Grey Lady reached out one ghostly hand toward Cho's. No sooner did the hand pass through Cho's hand than Cho yawned mightily.  
  
"Sorry," she said, "don't know what came over me just now. I guess I didn't sleep too soundly last night . . ."  
  
Again the Grey Lady reached out toward Cho. This time, as the hand brushed the side of Cho's face without touching it, Cho's eyelids fell. She leaned forward until her head was again resting on her arms, although this time in a deep sleep.  
  
She was out for about five minutes. It took the sound of someone knocking on the table next to her head to bring her awake again. Cho looked up, and this time saw Roger Davies. Earlier she had seen him wearing his Quidditch robes in the Common Room; now, he had a black winter cloak over those robes. Snow was still melting off of his shoulders.  
  
"Are you all right, then?" he asked.  
  
Cho wiped her eyes. "I, well, I think so. I was just dreaming about, something; now I've forgotten. Where have you been?"  
  
"Making a killing," he smiled as he tossed a leather money pouch onto the table. It landed with a heavy jingle. "Are you going home for the hols?"  
  
"No. That is, I told my parents that I would if there was another attack."  
  
"Well, I'm afraid you'll have to take your chances with the rest of us. When the school found out this morning about last night's attacks, there was a stampede. Everyone who didn't have a seat on the Express beat a path to the ticket office, even through four feet of snow. I doubt Hagrid could have cleared that path quicker. The upshot is, there isn't a seat left on Monday's train."  
  
"Did you get a ticket?"  
  
"Of course; weeks ago. I just came in from selling mine to some luckless Hufflepuff who was at the end of the line when they announced the sellout. Got back more than I paid for it."  
  
"That's cruel; taking advantage of someone's distress to make a profit."  
  
"First of all, it wasn't exactly a profit. I overspent myself on the last Hogsmeade trip, so all this did was put me back to where I was supposed to be. Second, it was simple economics: I had something he wanted, and he paid what he was willing to pay. Lastly, it's not as if I make a habit of it. This is a one-in-a-million opportunity."  
  
"Very clever," Cho said, with a bit of disapproval still in her voice. "I suppose that's why you were Sorted into Ravenclaw."  
  
"You make it sound like something bad," Roger said, looking concerned. "Look, if I knew you still needed a ticket, I would have given it to you for nothing."  
  
"That's, I, thank you." Cho found she was blushing, and didn't know why. She hurriedly stood up and almost ran from the Great Hall. She didn't stop until she was back in the Ravenclaw Common Room.  
  
She looked around the room; shelves full of hundreds of books, and, as far as she could tell, none of them were any help at all. But if you couldn't find the answer to your most important questions in books, what's the point of being a Ravenclaw?  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 28, wherein Cho and Roger spend a New Year's Eve together talking about life, Quidditch and other things . . . 


	28. Happy Holidays

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
28. Happy Holidays  
  
Cho stood at the window of her now-empty dormitory on Monday morning, watching as dozens of self-propelled sledges dashed over the thick snow. Each sledge was so full of students that they were hanging over the sides, threatening to fall out on the way to the station. All the castle, it seemed, was headed for the Hogwarts Express, in a mad dash to spend the holidays away from whatever danger threatened.  
  
Cho looked round at all the empty beds. Jan and Raina, Libby and Letitia and Diana-all of them off to their homes. There would be no one for Cho to talk to on an evening before bed, or to study with in the library after breakfast. Why hadn't she gone?  
  
Because she couldn't, she reminded herself. By the time she tried to leave, there were no more tickets to be had. Roger sold his own ticket . . .  
  
Roger! He's still here! So maybe it won't be so bad. And there have to be others. She'd find out who else was staying.  
  
But back to why; why was she staying? Because of Quidditch and her mother. She threatened to pull Cho out of Hogwarts altogether if the danger from the Chamber of Secrets became too great. But there was no way-no way on earth-Cho was going to leave without playing at least one match as Ravenclaw Seeker. High marks in school had always come easily to Cho; this position on the team had not. She remembered the price she paid in broken bones, in the suspicion and scorn of the team. It wasn't going to be for naught.  
  
She had planned to get to the Great Hall early for lunch-there was so little else to do, now that the castle was nearly empty. However (and this seemed to be happening to her a lot lately) there was a change of plans. She saw a copy of Newt Scamander's "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" lying open on a sofa in the Common Room. Even though she knew that this was probably the first place anyone would look for clues as to what was in the Chamber of Secrets, she started poring through it again. This time, though, she specifically looked for monsters that attacked ghosts. Certainly, anything with the ability to turn Nearly Headless Nick to stone would have done so before, and it would have been written up.  
  
But, try as she might to find something, Scamander was no help at all. By the time Cho realized this, however, lunch was well under way. So she dropped the book, and dashed out into the corridor. She ran so quickly toward the Great Hall that she almost collided with one of the students; only her reflexes stopped her at the last minute.  
  
Cho was about to run past him when he smiled and said, "Cho Chang, isn't it? I don't think we've been formally introduced." The student wore Hufflepuff robes with a Prefect badge.  
  
They may never have been introduced, but Cho recognized him at once. "There's no need for introductions, Mister Diggory. I've seen you play."  
  
Diggory smiled a toothy smile-like Gilderoy Lockhart but with sincerity-and stuck out a hand for Cho to shake. "And I hope to see you play sometime soon."  
  
Cho realised that he expected her to shake his hand, but a bit of her Horse nature asserted itself. She wanted to keep this opposition Seeker off- balance. She ignored the outstretched hand, clasped her hands in front of her, bowed at the waist, then ran past Cedric, leaving with his hand sticking out and a very confused look on his face. It was all Cho could do to stop from giggling as she entered the Great Hall.  
  
Roger Davies was in the middle of attacking a shepherd's pie. He looked up and motioned for Cho to join him. As she sat at the table, she looked around the hall. There may have been only a few students left, but, oddly enough, all four Seekers had stayed behind. Diggory was just walking into the hall, giving Cho a quick, almost pained, look before going to the Hufflepuff table. Draco Malfoy of Slytherin was there, flanked as he was everywhere but the Quidditch pitch by two imposing and stupid-looking students. And there was Harry Potter at the Gryffindor table, with one of the Weasleys; the red hair was a giveaway.  
  
It was as if Roger could read her mind. "Don't worry," he said as well as he could with a mouthful of food. "You'll get your chance. It's just this monster business has thrown everything into a cocked hat."  
  
"It had better be soon." Cho put some food on her plate and simply stared at it, her appetite suddenly fled. "Roger, I have to fly! I have to chase the Snitch! I practice and I practice, and what am I practicing for if not a match? I need a match!"  
  
"They'll probably let us play again by the Spring thaw-if they've solved this Chamber business."  
  
Just then, Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater walked into the Great Hall. They walked in separately, and tried to cover up the fact that they were a couple now, but Cho knew their secret, and could read the signs. She waved Penelope over to sit next to her.  
  
"How are you feeling?" Cho asked in a whisper. "The last time we talked, you were higher than a Quidditch goalpost."  
  
Penelope smiled from ear to ear. "I'm a mile beyond that now. I can't imagine being happier."  
  
"So you and . . ."  
  
Penelope raised her hand to silence Cho. "We don't want to announce anything yet," she whispered. "But I know I've never felt any feeling so glorious!"  
  
"Well, if you want to talk about it, I'll probably be in the Common Room most of the day."  
  
"Thanks, but talking about it works only if he's not around. And since he is, I expect I won't be spending much time in the Common Room myself."  
  
"Oh. Er, right. Well, have a good time. I mean . . ." Cho was getting flustered, tripping over her own words, and turning Gryffindor red. She looked at Roger, who seemed amused by her discomfort. "And what's it to you?!" she barked at him.  
  
"Nothing; nothing at all." He hurried away from the table, but was smiling as he retreated.  
  
xxx  
  
As Christmas approached, both the people in the castle and the monster hiding within it seemed to grow slower, lazier, maybe even a bit fatter. The snow had finally stopped falling, the days were at their shortest, and everyone seemed to put things aside in preparation for the Christmas feast.  
  
Cho didn't have any problems with her homework. Charms, Herbology, Divination were all simple and straightforward, and Defense Against the Dark Arts was turning into a joke. Even Potions was bearable by now.  
  
No, Cho's problem was Christmas. The train left on the 21st; Christmas was a handful of days away. But that handful passed through her hand like sand, and here it was Christmas Eve. And she didn't know if she would be giving presents at school, or to whom.  
  
Students had beaten a path through the snow to the train station, but Cho couldn't take the few steps over the tracks and into Hogsmeade itself to buy anything. Hogsmeade was out of bounds except on special visiting days. If she were reported, she would surely draw a detention at the very least. Worse than that, the school might send an owl to her parents.  
  
One present in particular kept bothering her: the book of Robert Burns poetry. She hadn't read it herself yet; the only Burns she knew was that song she sang on New Years Eve when she was a First Year. She didn't buy it for herself anyway. She bought it on an impulse the day Harry Potter lost all the bones in his arm. It was a get-well present that she had been prevented from giving him because of the mysterious attacks.  
  
The problem was, she couldn't give it to him as a "get-well" present. Harry was well now, none the worse for breaking his arm or having Gilderoy Lockhart suck all the bones out. Besides, they'd never even met face-to- face, not counting the time Cho snuck into the hospital wing last year. But Harry was unconscious then.  
  
Well, if not for Harry, then for who? It made no sense to keep it; she didn't buy it for herself, and wasn't really interested in Scots poetry. Wait a second: the song from New Years Eve. Roger Davies! He might like it . . .  
  
No no no, Cho berated herself; that's all wrong, all wrong! He's Captain of the House team! I couldn't just give him a gift, no matter what!  
  
--Why not?  
  
--Because he'd probably take it wrongly.  
  
--How many ways are there to take it?  
  
--Either I would be trying to get some special favour from him about the team . . .  
  
--Well, there's no worry there; you're already Seeker.  
  
--. . . or he'll think it's something, something personal.  
  
--Is it?  
  
--OF COURSE NOT! He's fifteen years old! I'm just thirteen!  
  
--For another month; then you'll be fourteen.  
  
--But that doesn't mean I'll automatically become . . . Anyway, I don't want to make any mistakes.  
  
--Mistakes about what?  
  
--I don't know how he feels about me, and I don't want him thinking . . .  
  
--Would you mind him thinking . . .  
  
--STOP IT! I told you I don't want this now! I can't have this now!  
  
The quiet of the dormitory night was broken only by a distant crash of something heavy, followed by the muffled voice of the Bloody Baron yelling at Peeves the Poltergeist. Cho had no idea what to do, or even why she should become so distressed over this one little book.  
  
Even Ravenclaws, devotees of learning and solid facts, get flashes of inspiration from time to time, and Cho Chang had one now. She remembered what the Prefect had said on her first night in Ravenclaw; that the Grey Lady was somehow bound up with the painting over the fireplace in the Common Room. Pulling on her robes in case there was anyone down there, she grabbed the book and ran barefoot down the stairs to the Common Room. When the arrived, she immediately put the book on the mantel, then looked up at the painting.  
  
"If you please, ma'am, I need some help. Please see to it that this book goes where it's supposed to be. If it's still here in the morning, I'll know I've been foolish and I'll donate it to the Common Room. Thank you. Happy Christmas."  
  
Cho went back up to her bed in a much calmer state of mind than she had been.  
  
xxx  
  
Quan Yin awoke Cho with the sun already up. It lit a bright white landscape, but the temperature had fallen overnight and the owl tapped quite insistently until Cho let her in. Cho didn't understand at first; the house-elves seemed to have managed Christmas as they always did. Presents were stacked at the foot of her bed from her family. She hadn't even sent Quan Yin anywhere in the past few days. She read the note tied to the owl's leg. A small piece of paper with one word: "Thanks."  
  
Someone got the book, then, but who? Someone who knew about Quan Yin. That seemed to focus on Ravenclaw House.  
  
Time enough to worry later. The presents could wait; she'd slept through breakfast and wasn't about to miss the feast. She dressed in her class robes; she wanted to put on her Quidditch robes for the occasion, but felt it might be a bit much.  
  
As she passed through the Common Room she glanced at the mantel; the book was gone.  
  
The décor of the Great Hall was splendid: a dozen large trees floated above the tables, with ropes of holly and mistletoe connecting them as enchanted snow fell, only to vanish like smoke rather than melt. Cho noted, with a little disappointment, that Harry sat at the wrong side of the Gryffindor table, so that his back was to her. Unfortunately, Draco Malfoy of Slytherin was facing her, but acted as if she were beneath his notice. Over at the Hufflepuff table, Cedric Diggory arrived late and glanced at Cho. She gave him no reaction. He bit his lower lip and sat with his back to her.  
  
She could see Penelope Clearwater further down the table, looking dreamily across at the Gryffindors, and specifically at Percy Weasley. He returned her dreamy gaze, except when he was roused out of his trance by one of his younger brothers laughing at him. Roger sat still further down the table; he simply smiled and nodded at Cho, then went back to his food.  
  
In a little while, Cho forgot her worries, tucked into several helpings of Christmas goose, sang along as best she could with the carols led by Professor Dumbledore, and popped open a few holiday crackers. After her first Christmas at Hogwarts, she suspected that the crackers were special, and this year simply proved her right. One cracker opened not with a bang but with the ear-splitting screech of a Chinese violin. There on the table lay a delicate gold chain and, on it, the figure of a galloping horse. It moved Cho almost to tears.  
  
She looked around before opening a second cracker, and realized that Harry had already left the Great Hall. She pulled at the ends of the cracker, and it opened with the sound of flapping wings, reveal a pair of Golden Snitch earrings. They were for pierced ears, and Cho's ears weren't pierced. Still, she thought, maybe I'll get that done this summer.  
  
The sun was already set as she made her way back to Ravenclaw. Roger had stayed behind to talk to Madam Hooch, and Penelope had left early. Percy Weasley left shortly thereafter, and Cho had a hunch that she knew what they were doing. But that was hours ago. . .  
  
As she touched the spine of her Confucius, she heard something strange coming from the Common Room: music. They had no instruments. Cho crept toward the Common Room, and saw Penelope Clearwater. She was seated at what Cho would later learn was called a harpsichord. Penelope was playing some sort of halting melody; when Cho took another look, she saw that Penelope wasn't reading Muggle sheet music, but on the harpsichord lay open the black book of Robert Burns' poetry!  
  
Penelope worked at the keys, producing more than a few wrong notes, but finally sensed another presence. She turned, saw Cho staring at the book, then jumped up and ran to Cho, throwing her arms around her and kissing her on both cheeks.  
  
"It's from you, isn't it!" Penelope gushed. "Thank you; it's wonderful! However did you know?"  
  
"Know what?"  
  
Penelope led Cho to a sofa, then Transfigured the harpsichord back into the day-bed. "My parents gave me music lessons before I got my letter. I've loved music since I was a baby, and I wanted to have a career in it; before I found out I was a witch, that is." Penelope sighed. "With these attacks now, sometimes I wonder if I should have stayed among the Muggles."  
  
"What were you just playing? I thought it was a book of poems."  
  
"It is," Penelope smiled, "but I always used to take any poem I found and tried to set it to music. It's ages since I've done it."  
  
"Well, then, I'm glad you like it. But what made you think it was from me?"  
  
"I had a little help there from Percy," the older girl blushed. "He went over to the bookstore this morning. I know that this isn't a Hogsmeade day, but he's a Prefect and rank has its privileges. Anyway, they remembered the purchase because the book had been there ever so long, and it was bought by a Chinese girl, and, well, there's only one of you here."  
  
"I see. Well, I'm glad it all worked out, then."  
  
"You bought it for someone else, then?"  
  
"It doesn't matter anymore. Happy Christmas!" Cho ran up to her dormitory, feeling strangely as if she had intruded on something private between Percy and Penelope.  
  
At least now there was time to look through the presents from home. Her parents had sent her a new edition of the Five Classics of Confucius, and a scarf with a painting of the Goddess Quan Yin (Cho tried to playfully tie the scarf onto the owl, but the owl objected rather strongly).  
  
As she was looking through the books, she noticed a small envelope hidden inside one of them. She opened the envelope and read what was inside.  
  
If her hand hadn't covered her mouth, her screams would have been heard past the Common Room and into the corridor.  
  
It was an itinerary. She would be with her parents this summer, and-for the first time in her life-she would be going to China.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 29, wherein Cho and Roger talk of Quidditch, among other things . . . 


	29. Auld Acquaintance

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
29. Auld Acquaintance  
  
Cho spent the next week in a daze. It was a good thing that there were no classes, because she couldn't have concentrated on them anyway. She couldn't concentrate on anything except that summer's promised trip to China. She had heard so much about it, and even read Muggle books and newspapers, but so much of it still seemed to be terra incognita. What could she see? Who would she meet? Were Chinese ghosts as fierce and powerful as they were rumoured to be? Did Chinese witches really ride clouds instead of brooms?  
  
She seemed completely beside herself. One day, wandering through the halls, she ran into Professor Snape. "Get back to your House, girl!" he snapped. "These halls are unsafe."  
  
"Sorry, Professor Flitwick," she said, even though the Potions Master and the Charms Master were as unlike as any two men could be. Cho simply burst out laughing and ran down the hall, watched by the very puzzled Professor Snape.  
  
xxx  
  
She had calmed down by New Years Eve, however, and traded the usual end-of- year pleasantries over dinner with Penelope and Roger. She also noticed, for the first time, that one of the Gryffindors was missing: Granger, the girl with the highest marks in her year. Everyone in Hogwarts knew, of course, that she was Muggle-born; Malfoy had made such an issue of it that fights had broken out. However, since the monster didn't seem to have claimed her and nobody from Gryffindor was panicking, Cho decided that she wouldn't either.  
  
She went up to bed that night, but didn't feel at all sleepy. She got dressed again and went down to the Common Room, half hoping that someone else would be there.  
  
Roger Davies was.  
  
He was curled up in the day-bed. (Cho smiled inwardly, remembering that Penelope has Transfigured the day-bed into a harpsichord, and imagined how Roger would look in THAT!) His Christmas presents included new dragon-hide boots, a writing-quill made from the feather of a hippogriff, and a bottomless book-bag. Unfortunately, the bag was bottomless but not weightless; he had tried putting all his classbooks into it, but found that he couldn't budge it. He spent an hour cursing out "whatever gnome-brained clod thought that one up."  
  
He'd also been given a facsimile copy of the oldest Quidditch book printed in England, "Quest for ye Snidget", written in 1188 by Crepuscule Mireditch. The book was prized not so much for its text but for its rich and fanciful illuminations, and Roger was leafing through these when Cho came in.  
  
"You all right, then?" Roger asked. "Lately you've been a bit . . ."  
  
"I guess I haven't told you. I just found out I'm going with my parents to China this summer!"  
  
"That's great! You've never been before, have you?"  
  
"No, and I really want to see it. It'll only be for a few weeks, but we're supposed to be in-country, away from the modern cities."  
  
"Well, bring me back a Fireball."  
  
"I don't know about that," Cho laughed. "How about a team jersey, if I can find one?"  
  
"It's a deal." Cho turned to go back to her dorm. "Cho, wait! I mean, can you just stay a minute for a chat?"  
  
"You're right; it's been too long." She settled herself into an overstuffed chair by the fire. "Remember two years ago? I was half hoping to find a crowd like that again. Have you heard from Mackie, by the way?"  
  
"Oh, yeh. Got an owl just before the blizzard. He went on to Uni, but had to leave it. His da took sick and he had to help with the family business."  
  
"What business is that?"  
  
"They have a mill, weaving cloth for robes. You never see it, getting your robes at Malkin's, but it starts with them and with a hundred other little wizarding mills all over England."  
  
"That's nice. I mean, it's a shame his having to leave University, but, you know."  
  
They sat in silence for a minute. "Cho," Roger asked suddenly, a bit hesitantly, "why Quidditch? It's just a sport, and you've damn near killed yourself to get on the team."  
  
Cho wondered if she should answer at all. She'd thought about it a lot in the past few years, but never tried to explain it to anyone. "I guess it started with Eunice Murray. You've read her, I take it?" Roger nodded. "I discovered that book when I was ten, and it just moved me so much. Her story had so much to do with me. I mean, she had to overcome so much to get to the top as a Seeker. And I've felt that all my life. I thought I'd have to struggle for whatever I get."  
  
"Your family must be well off, though; to send you here, I mean, and go to China in the summer."  
  
"It's not about money. The Malfoys have money and Draco is a swine. Harry Potter's got money, too, and he seems rather nice. I'm talking about the struggle. I mean, I've always been the only Chinese girl in the crowd. Even in Diagon Alley, there's not another my age. I feel like I'm always being judged."  
  
"But surely you know we like you. Most of the people I know, anyway."  
  
"It's different. If I'm liked, it doesn't change the fact that I'm an outsider. I feel like one anyway. But take Diggory in Hufflepuff, for example; he looks like he belongs here: the best young wizard Britain has to offer."  
  
"Is this about looks, then?"  
  
"That's just part of it. The looks reflect my family, my background. It's different. Raina could probably tell you the same thing. Do you know her?"  
  
"Er, no, not really."  
  
"So many people don't. They see the scarf, they find out she prays five times a day and won't eat certain foods, and that's all it takes. They don't want to know her, because she's from another culture and another country."  
  
"But you're not like that."  
  
"Roger, you're not getting it. I'm a British witch, and I'll probably never be anything else. But whether I am or not, people will look at me and see what they want to see. In their eyes, Raina and I are both aliens."  
  
"Someone's been bothering you, then? Maybe you should tell the Headmaster."  
  
Cho just sighed. "Maybe we should stick to Quidditch. Have you heard anything? Are we ever going to make up that game?"  
  
"I talked to Hooch after the game was canceled. She's called a meeting with the heads of the Four Houses right after the holidays. If we work it right, there's still time for five games."  
  
"I just hope I didn't make too big a spectacle of myself. I put so much hope into playing my first match as Ravenclaw Seeker."  
  
"I know the feeling. When I went from reserve to regular, I didn't eat for a week before the game. I couldn't keep anything down. We're all like that; we wouldn't be Quidditch players if we weren't. Getting on a broom in front of hundreds of people, chasing little flying balls through the air- we all make spectacles of ourselves."  
  
"Right now, that's all that I want to do. Before the end of January, do you think?"  
  
"Well, old Flitwick doesn't exactly drive a hard bargain. I'll ask if the Captains can sit in on the meeting. Maybe I can push him in the right direction."  
  
"I want the chance, Roger. That's all I've ever wanted."  
  
"And you'll get your chance. It'll just be some time in 1993."  
  
"Then it really will be a Happy New Year. Thanks, Roger," Cho smiled as she rose and went up to her dormitory.  
  
At the stroke of midnight, a puff of green smoke appeared in the fireplace of the Common Room, followed by the head of Macarthur Culligan. "Are ye still awake, boyo?"  
  
"Happy New Year, Mackie!"  
  
"Same to you. Can you tell me what's been happening up there? The Daily Prophet is saying little but hinting a lot."  
  
"I'll fill you in later. Right now, well, wait a second." Roger went to the staircase to the girls' dormitories, making sure that Cho wasn't there. "Mackie, I'm afraid it's just getting worse."  
  
"You know you've got to keep your feelings off the pitch."  
  
"It's not the pitch I'm worried about. As a Seeker she just gets better and better. It almost killed her when the match was canceled a few weeks ago. But it's . . . off the pitch, times like tonight, that worry me."  
  
"What happened tonight?"  
  
"Well, nothing happened, exactly. We've just been sitting here talking. But if I kept on biting my tongue any longer, there'd be a great bloody mess on the floor."  
  
"Got you that bad, then?"  
  
"I can't begin to tell you."  
  
"So talk to her about it."  
  
"And tell her what? 'Cho, you're only thirteen, but I've never felt like this about any other girl'? For God's sake, she's thirteen!"  
  
"Then wait until she's fifteen. Your feelings may change by then."  
  
"I don't know if that's good or bad."  
  
"Wait and see, Roger. Wait and see."  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 30, wherein Hogwarts' Quidditch schedule is determined for the rest of the year . . . 


	30. The Great Compromise

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
30. The Great Compromise  
  
MINUTES OF THE MEETING OF  
  
THE EXTRAORDINARY COMMITTEE  
  
REGARDING  
  
THE HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH SEASON  
  
Attending: Professors Hooch (chair), McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, Sprout  
  
On this 2nd Day of February 1993  
  
Pr. HOOCH: Well, we all know why we're here. Frankly, this has gone on too long already. We need to schedule three more elimination matches, not to mention the Cup final, and there's barely room in the schedule for them.  
  
Pr. SNAPE: With all due respect to our distinguished Chair, this entire issue constitutes a diversion. The reason for this Academy, for the full thousand years of its existence, has been to educate young witches and wizards in the ways of magic, not to provide them with athletic training.  
  
Pr. FLITWICK: As a wiser mind than mine once observed, "mens sana in corpore sano"; a sound mind in a sound body. We really cannot separate the two.  
  
Pr. SNAPE: Are you suggesting that Quidditch be thought of as on a par with Physical Training?  
  
Pr. FLITWICK: I do not, sir, but do you deny that it is indeed a physically taxing athletic event? The players do considerably more than ride around on brooms, you know.  
  
Pr. SNAPE: I am well aware of that, sir, given Slytherin House's long string of Cup victories, which was only recently, and temporarily, broken.  
  
Pr. HOOCH: Gentlewizards, the issue is pressing and time is pressing. We need to continue the battle on the pitch.  
  
Pr. McGONAGALL: Now that the worst of the harsh weather seems to be behind us, I, as Head of Gryffindor House, am all for a resumption of play. However, I must remind you that the Board of Governors has taken the matter out of our hands. After the December attack, the Board sent a notice to the Headmaster stating that, if I may quote, "sports, excursions, diversions and other forms of amusement shall be suspended for the duration of the present crisis". We all know the practical results of this notice. We've had to cancel Hogsmeade trips as well as Quidditch matches.  
  
Pr. SPROUT: Yes, and it's been damned inconvenient! Pardon my French, but there are some gardening supplies I samply cannot procure except through Hogsmeade, and if I cannot go into town, or the merchants there cannot come onto the grounds . . .  
  
Pr. FLITWICK: Supplies are hardly the least of it. I hope that I am not the only one to notice the mood of gloom and despair which hangs over the student body. Morale has gotten dangerously low, and Cheering Charms are only a temporary expedient. I suggest that playing the full schedule will prove just what the doctor ordered to bring a bit of normalcy back to the school and the students.  
  
Pr. HOOCH: You've stated the matter quite succinctly. Profesor Snape, Professor McGonagall, you both attended the meeting of the Board of Governors, didn't you? What is your sense of their notice? Did they seem likely to amend or withdraw?  
  
Pr. McGONAGALL: Most of the members of the Board are, of course, Hogwarts alumni themselves, and some have children in attendance here now. They put a great store by the traditions of Hogwarts, yet they considered the safety of the students to be paramount. I don't believe that they will be swayed in this matter, unless and until this business of the so-called Chamber of Secrets is settled.  
  
Pr. SNAPE: If I may add an observation here, Professor. This year, one of the Governors, Lucius Malfoy, provided, at considerable personal expense, a complete set of Numbus 2001 brooms to the Slytherin team.  
  
Pr. SPROUT: Giving them an unfair advantage. I know that I've said this before . . .  
  
Pr. SNAPE: And we all know that you're saying it again.  
  
Pr. SPROUT: but this sort of blatant favoritism will lead to a bad end. If Galleons determines the better Quidditch team, how long before we abandon the Sorting Hat and let students buy their way into the House of their choice?  
  
Pr. McGONAGALL: We've all heard your views on the matter before, Phyllida. Your point is well taken, and that day will not come as long as I am Assistant Headmistress. But we seem to have strayed from the point Professor Snape wished to make.  
  
Pr. SNAPE: Thank you. I was merely going to observe that Governor Malfoy may well be of two minds about the notice. On the one hand, he would be concerned for his son's life; on the other, the brooms would hardly justify his investment if they were left sitting in a shed. Perhaps we should consider approaching him with a view to reversing the decision.  
  
Pr. FLITWICK: I can think of several reasons not to try that approach, sir. The first is that the Board of Governors will not meet again for another month, and I doubt that they would be called into special session merely to overrule themselves. Meanwhile, we will have lost the chance to schedule all of the remaining matches. Second, I don't like the idea of any one of the Board becoming powerful enough to sway the rest, regardless of the issue or the direction. The Board of Governors was instituted when the Wizards Council determined that the school was too large and too complex not to have its own governing body. The idea of Hogwarts governing itself depends on the vision and the independence of the Governors.  
  
Pr. McGONAGALL: Be that as it may, Professor, the Board of Governors is now under the auspices of the Ministry of Magic, and I fear what can happen to this school, no matter how venerable it may be, if we simply disregard the will of the Board.  
  
Pr. HOOCH: Has there been any headway at all in solving the mystery? I should think that a monster capable of attacking ghosts, people and cats would be quite memorable.  
  
Pr. McGONAGALL: I spoke with Madame Pince. It seems the sheer size of our library is also our downfall. There are so many volumes about so many monsters that, even though experts from the Ministry are working on the problem, it may take us months to determine the true nature of the menace.  
  
Pr. HOOCH: In the meantime, can we allow at least a few matches? It will get the students out of the castle, at any rate. Staying cooped up here can't be doing them any good, especially if the monster is still in the castle anyway.  
  
Pr. SNAPE: I am afraid that we cannot presume to know where the monster is, any more than we can say what it is. Bodies have been found in the castle, but without signs of a struggle. It is possible that they were attacked in various locations, and then brought back to the corridor where they were found. The fact remains that no doorway has been found to this hidden chamber as of yet.  
  
Pr. HOOCH: And the fact remains that none of the present victims were attacked in the Quidditch stadium!  
  
Pr. SNAPE: But isn't it a telling point that the attacks stopped, for the time being, when the blizzard arrived? Is it not likely that this creature could be hibernating anywhere outside the castle walls, rather than within?  
  
Pr. FLITWICK: But then that begs the question of how it carried its victims inside to place them in the hall. No, I think that this castle is the creature's domain. I would vote to let the games go on.  
  
Pr. McGONAGALL: There is still the problem of students and studies. The school year usually includes five widely-spaced games. This way, we would have to play one game per month. As a result, there would be a great deal of homework-dodging. We'd need a month just for the teams to get back into shape. If any games are to be played, we shall have to resort to a more impartial judge to schedule them. I have brought with me, as you can see, the Sorting Hat. I will place it in the center of the table, like so, and ask it to decide how many games are to be scheduled, and for when.  
  
[Whereupon the Extraordinary Committee waited for the Sorting Hat to offer anything up. After a few minutes, it coughed up a single piece of paper, resembling the date off of a calendar and reading: "8 MAY 1993"]  
  
Pr. HOOCH: Personally, I don't lke it, but it's probably the most sensible compromise. Still one month before finals, during the nicest weather, and if we don't catch the monster by then, we've hardly earned the right to call ourselves teachers.  
  
Pr. FLITWICK: I'll just toddle off then and tell my House . . .  
  
Pr. SNAPE: Tell your House what? What makes you think that Ravenclaw will be playing?  
  
Pr. FLITWICK: We won it last year; it's ours to defend!  
  
Pr. SPROUT: And don't the rest of us get a chance, then?  
  
Pr. SNAPE: Unless you think the match earlier this year counts for nothing.  
  
Pr. FLITWICK: That's the way it counts for you, anyway, isn't it? Slytherin lost!  
  
Pr. HOOCH: Gentlemen! That's quite enough! I propose that we let the Sorting Hat settle this matter as well. The four of you, reach in and draw out, well, whatever it is you can draw out.  
  
[Whereupon Madam Hooch picked up the hat, realizing from its heft that there were four small balls rattling inside. Each of the other professors took a ball from the Sorting Hat. Professors McGonagall and Sprout drew out balls painted gold to resemble a Snitch; the others drew out black balls.]  
  
Pr. HOOCH: Well, there it is. Go and inform your Houses that this year's Quidditch Cup will be determined by a single match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, to take place on the eighth day of May.  
  
Pr. SNAPE: If only Godric Gryffindor hadn't been such a ladies' man.  
  
Pr. McGONAGALL: Nobody likes a poor loser, Severus.  
  
Pr. HOOCH: And winners who gloat too much don't get on well either, Minerva. Of course, if the monster is caught tomorrow, we will probably have to go back and do this all again, but that'll be a load off of all our minds. If there is nothing further, this meeting is adjourned.  
  
xxx  
  
Professor Flitwick called a meeting of the Ravenclaw team that evening in the Common Room to give them the news. "We left it up to chance and the Sorting Hat," he concluded apologetically, "and that was the result."  
  
Cho barely acknowledged that Flitwick had spoken. She stared into the fireplace even after he had finished speaking.  
  
Roger Davies sighed. "At least there's next fall."  
  
"Unless the monster's caught first." The words were out of Cho's mouth so quickly that even she was surprised. Then, with a distinct fire in her eyes, she rose and went toward the dormitory steps as if the others weren't there.  
  
"Miss Chang?" Professor Flitwick asked.  
  
With one foot on the steps, she turned to face the team. "There won't be any Quidditch here until the monster is caught. So I'm going to find the monster. I'm starting with Professor Lockhart's books. After all, the monster didn't attack anyone until he got here."  
  
"Miss Chang, are you accusing a professor?"  
  
"No, sir, merely observing. But if there's a clue to the monster in his books, I'm going to find it." With that, she turned and ran up to her dormitory.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 31, wherein Cho learns nothing about the monster, but learns a very interesting thing about Gilderoy Lockhart . . . 


	31. The Adventures of Gilderoy Lockhart

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
31. The Adventures of Gilderoy Lockhart  
  
From that moment on, Cho was on a mission. She attended to her duties: classes, homework, Quidditch practice (which Roger Davies called weekly regardless of the compromise because "you never know"). Every moment beyond that, however, she spent poring over the collected works of Gilderoy Lockhart. She didn't really believe her rash statement that Lockhart might be connected to the Chamber of Secrets, since both appeared at Hogwarts the same year. Besides, she doubted that Lockhart could summon up any kind of monster; during the year he had moved in her view from "harmlessly amusing" to "profoundly incompetent".  
  
She woke early and started reading, often going right through breakfast without noticing or eating. This was why she missed Lockhart's announcement in the Great Hall about the Valentine's Day festivities. So it was that, on the afternoon of 14 February, Cho Chang, who had turned fourteen less than a month before, was reading in the library and taking lengthy notes when she sensed someone standing beside her. She looked over; then looked down. There she saw something that was supposed to be a cupid. However, this dwarf-short, pink, holding a bow and arrow, and naked (except for a strategically placed quiver)-looked both rumpled and impatient.  
  
"'Ere, you're Cho Chang, ain't yeh?"  
  
Cho looked down at him, trying to keep a straight face. "And you're a garden-gnome, ain't yeh?"  
  
"Suit yerself," the cupid shrugged. "I got yer Valentine anyway." The cupid pulled a scroll out of its quiver, opened it, and began singing in a voice that sounded like a screech-owl gargling:  
  
"Ship me somewhere East of Suez Where there is no . . ."  
  
The cupid got no further; he vanished in a puff of smoke. The smoke cleared to reveal a potted plant.  
  
Madam Pince, the librarian, walked over with severe steps and a disgusted look on her face. "That's enough of THAT!" she declared, picking up the plant. "Don't know what that man was thinking." She kept muttering to herself as she walked away.  
  
Cho, however, didn't notice. She had been stopped in her search by one thought:  
  
"A Valentine. Somebody sent me my first Valentine-and it's been turned into a plant!"  
  
xxx  
  
At first, she wasn't sure how to take it; the thing had looked and sounded so awful. But that evening, in the dormitory, she'd heard about others who had received the same mixed blessing.  
  
"Harry Potter's was the absolute worst," Letitia Groondy chuckled. "He actually ran from it, and the bally little thing had to tackle him in the middle of the corridor!"  
  
"Who would send somethin' like that?" Jan asked.  
  
"Mercifully anonymous. I'd want to hunt down whoever sent something like that to me. I have a few select Hexes I'd want to try."  
  
"No name on yours, I suppose," Diana Fairweather asked Cho.  
  
"I'm not sure," Cho said; "Madam Pince Transfigured it just as it was getting started."  
  
"Maybe you'll do better next year; if they have this next year." Diana shook her head. "Pince isn't the only one who thought it was a bad idea."  
  
Cho tried to focus on Lockhart again, but couldn't. She couldn't stop thinking of the ugly cupid with the ugly song. And that night, for the first time in months, she recalled in her dreams the erotic Chinese pictures from her parents' hidden library, and especially the pose known as "Queen Bee Making Honey".  
  
xxx  
  
Like an athlete who, confident and sure of stride, makes one misstep that throws everything else off, Cho faltered after Valentine's Day. She still devoted her spare time to reading Lockhart, but it was if she no longer knew what she was reading. She would spend an hour poring over "Year with the Yeti", only to realize that she couldn't remember anything that she'd read. Her courses were also suffering, and the last straw came when Professor Snape singled her out in Potions one day in early March: "Miss Chang seems to be losing her touch. She should take care, lest the monster in the Chamber mistake her for a Muggle-born."  
  
It was all Cho could do not to lash out at Snape in class. Both her parents were magical; only one grandparent was a Muggle. But Snape was right; everything she touched seemed to be falling apart, and Cho had no idea what to do about it. As soon as Potions was over, she gathered her things, ran back to her dormitory, threw her cauldron into a corner and fell onto her bed, crying like a lost soul.  
  
Raina came into the dorm a few minutes later, saw Cho, and immediately sat next to her on the bed. "What happened?"  
  
"Nothing happened. Don't worry about me," Cho sniffled. "I'll get through this."  
  
"Through what? You're working yourself to death!"  
  
Cho explained her notion that discovering the identity of the monster would return Quidditch to Hogwarts, and that Lockhart's memoirs might have a clue.  
  
Raina didn't even need a second to think about it. "Cho, you've always treated me well. You're probably the best friend I have here. So let me say this as a friend: stop what you're doing. For a few days at least, rest your body and relax your mind."  
  
"I've got to defeat the monster!"  
  
"But the monster is defeating you; he's just doing it slowly. Please, rest for a few days. If you want to go back to the search, I'll help you."  
  
"But, you don't have to . . ."  
  
"Yes, I do," Raina replied earnestly. "I'm worried about you."  
  
Now it was all Cho could do to keep from crying for sheer relief and joy.  
  
xxx  
  
The next week was like Easter vacation for Cho; she found that, after doing homework, she had more than enough time on her hands. Raina made sure that Cho ate three meals a day and got enough sleep. And she wouldn't let Cho touch a book by Lockhart.  
  
By the end of the week, Cho could feel the difference. Her mental focus had returned, her mind seemed sharper, and she wasn't totally run-down at the end of the day. She knew that she would have to find a special gift to thank Raina.  
  
At the end of the week, rested and ready, Cho returned to her monster hunt, assisted this time by Raina and by Diana Fairweather. Diana had also noticed Cho's slow deterioration, but didn't know how to approach her about it or what to say. But she took Raina's lead and by week's end had added her own special gift: Penelope Clearwater had told Diana about the Prefects' Bath. The three snuck in one Saturday midnight, and had a delightful time swimming, splashing, giving each other shampoos and playing catch with soap bubbles as big and thick as a beach ball. Cho went to bed feeling better than she had in months.  
  
The three girls had divided up Lockhart's works between them. They followed Cho's example of taking notes about everything Lockhart wrote, and making logical deductions based on those writings. At first they simply focused on the nature of the monsters and generally ignored whatever else Lockhart wrote. But one day in early May, with time running out on the school year and no attacks since before Christmas, they made an important discovery.  
  
It didn't seem important at the time. They were at a table in the library. Diana Fairweather had impatiently thrown down "Voyages with Vampires". "This is no good!" she declared. "There's something wrong with these books!"  
  
"How do you mean?" Raina asked.  
  
"I think I know what she means," Cho answered. "There are some things about them that make no sense at all. The ways in which he discovers these monsters; sometimes he gets mail, sometimes he reads it in the papers, and sometimes he just doesn't say."  
  
"Now that you mention it, I've noticed it too," Raina sighed. She thumbed through her copy of "Voyages with Vampires". "Here's this chapter about the Creepy Countess of Curtici, Rumania. All he says is that 'the appearance of three bloodless corpses sent me to Rumania in September of 1985.'"  
  
Cho's head quickly went up. "Say that again." Raina repeated the passage. Cho immediately started looking through "Holidays with Hags". She stopped at one passage, and read it several times. "Funny I never noticed this before," she told the others, "but Lockhart says he was in Italy in September 1985, chasing down the Monstrous Minotaur of Milan."  
  
"Not according to this," Diana said, indicating "Year with the Yeti". "It says here, 'I spent two weeks in Japan in mid-September of 1985 before tackling the Terrible Tengu that Terrorized Tokyo. I absorbed the atmosphere of that wonderful Asian world . . .' Well, never mind the rest; it's just a travelogue. But could he really do it? Could he be in three countries in the same month?"  
  
"It's possible, I suppose," Raina said. "Apparation, broom, Portkey, Floo Powder; there are lots of ways to travel."  
  
"But he says here that he didn't travel!" Diana insisted. "He doesn't say a thing about a side-trip to deal with a vampire or a minoraur or any of it."  
  
"Here, too," Cho said. "Lockhart writes, 'From the thirteenth to the eighteenth of September, I combed the streets of Milan, stopping only for food or rest, caught in a labyrinth as daunting as the original on the Isle of Crete.' He didn't leave Milan."  
  
"He didn't leave Tokyo, either," Diana said. "So what kind of wizard can be in three places at once?"  
  
They considered the answer in silence, not wanting to speak what they were all speaking. Finally, Cho spoke. "Either Gilderoy Lockhart is the greatest wizard on earth . . ."  
  
"Not bloody likely," muttered Diana.  
  
"Or else he's the wizarding world's greatest fraud."  
  
They continued to sit in silence, realizing what this could mean.  
  
"The faculty won't be pleased to hear this," Diana ventured.  
  
"What faculty?" Cho demanded. "Most of the teachers, and the students, think Lockhart's a joke anyway. Look at that so-called Dueling Club."  
  
"I heard he couldn't even control a cageful of pixies," Raina added.  
  
"And the business with the bones in Harry Potter's arm," Diana added.  
  
"Harry? QUIDDITCH!" Cho jumped up with a start. "Tomorrow's that game, isn't it? What time is it?"  
  
"Time to close up," came the voice of Madam Pince from behind them. "Get on back to your House, then."  
  
The three girls gathered up their notes quickly and were shooed out into the corridor.  
  
"Well, what now?" Diana asked. "Do we try to see McGonagall or Dumbledore?"  
  
Cho thought a second. "It's too late now. After breakfast and before the match. I'll draw up a time-line tonight to prove what we've found. This is a serious charge, and it needs convincing evidence."  
  
The three walked briskly back to Ravenclaw. Unmasking the great Gilderoy Lockhart as a fake! This seemed almost as good as finding the monster!  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 32, when the monster attacks again, and two opponents find something else that they have in common . . . 


	32. Visitation

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
32. Visitation  
  
While the others in the dormitory were getting ready for bed, Cho placed her wand, now softly glowing, upright on her writing desk. Drawing out a fresh piece of parchment, she began writing. No title, no prologue; she copied out the three contradictory passages from Lockhart's books, and laid out the now self-evident fact (self-evident to her and her friends, so far) that Lockhart had some explaining to do.  
  
Within two hours, she finished her writing. She rolled up the parchment, put it in her desk, extinguished her wand, then changed and got into bed, pulling the curtains around her. She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. It was the sleep of the just; she felt she had accomplished a good day's work . . .  
  
In fact, she slept through breakfast, and didn't rise until almost ten.  
  
She only woke up because the two cats in the dormitory-Coriander and Pywacket-began fighting over something or other. Cho was never sure what; she only knew that the hissing and snarling woke her up in time to see the bed curtains shake when one of the animals tried climbing straight up them.  
  
Seeing that she was alone except for the cats, she looked at the time, and rushed to get dressed. As she struggled into her clothes and robes, she berated herself with a few choice curse-words in Mandarin--words her parents didn't know that she knew. She didn't even bother with her hair. She knew that she had just enough time to deliver the scroll to McGonagall before the Quidditch match. She'd probably have to stand at the back of the gallery, but it would be worth it to see some Quidditch again-and especially seeing Harry Potter as Seeker again.  
  
As she ran through the corridors, it seemed as if everyone was already at the stadium; Cho didn't see a soul. She assumed that McGonagall would already be there, with the Griffindors. As she rounded one corner just past the hospital wing, though, she ran into McGonagall-literally. Both student and pupil ended up on the cold stone floor.  
  
"I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!" Cho apologized again and again as she helped Professor McGonagall to her feet. "But I was just looking for you! This is important-very important!"  
  
"Child, what are you doing here?"  
  
"I said, I was looking for you. There's something you really need to know!"  
  
"If it's what I think it is, then I already know it."  
  
"You do?" Cho looked totally defeated as she drew the scroll out of her pocket. "But we only discovered this last night."  
  
"Let me see it then." McGonagall held out her long, thin hand; Cho put the scroll into it. McGonagall then put the unopened scroll into her own pocket. "Time enough to look at this later. Go back to your House, then."  
  
"But . . . the Quidditch match!"  
  
"Yes, well, I was just on my way to the stadium. You may as well know now: the match is canceled. Professor Flitwick will be by to explain it to you." McGonagall then looked over her shoulder, as if something was following her. "I really must ask that you go to your House now!"  
  
"But Professor!"  
  
"No buts, Miss Chang. I don't want to have to take points at a time like this. Just go!"  
  
Cho knew better than to argue with McGonagall, but she also knew that something had happened. She retreated down the corridor, then ducked into an empty classroom near the hospital wing, leaving the door open a crack.  
  
She didn't have long to wait. Barely a minute later, Professors McGonagall and Snape walked down the corridor, levitating two bodies before them. They were covered with sheets, so Cho couldn't tell who they were or what had happened. But the circumstances were clear: another attack.  
  
McGonagall knocked on the door to the infirmary. Professor Pomfrey ushered them in, then quickly closed and bolted the door.  
  
Another Quidditch game ruined; in fact, the match for Cup itself! As she walked back through the empty halls to Ravenclaw House, she thought that Salazar Slytherin and his monster seemed to have a grudge against Quidditch as well as the Muggle-born.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho told the tapestry the password ("sesquipedalian") and sank into one of the large comfy chairs in the Common Room. She hadn't long to wait; first singly then in groups, students began returning from the stadium. Many of them had already reached the same conclusion that Cho had: another attack. Cho just sat quietly, not even wanting to think about it.  
  
When the students were packed into the Common Room, Professor Flitwick stood up on the table to address them. Cho, whose chair was right in front of Flitwick, had never seen him look so distraught.  
  
"There has indeed been another attack," he sighed. "Two more students are in the hospital wing, and both happened to be students I know very well, whose classwork is exemplary and whose comportment here at Hogwarts has been beyond reproach. They are Miss Hermione Granger of Griffindor, and . . . " As Cho watched, tears started down Professor Flitwick's face. "The other is a Ravenclaw: Miss Penelope Clearwater."  
  
Quite a few of the students gasped, screamed or cried out. Cho's mind simply stopped for a few minutes. She didn't want to think about what she'd just heard. Even as the meeting broke up, after Flitwick had composed himself and explained the new security measure that would go into effect, she sat there, blankly staring at nothing. She didn't say anything when Roger Davies tapped her on the shoulder to ask if she was all right. She didn't say anything a minute later when she went up to her dormitory, just in time to hear Jan Nugginbridge saying, " . . . had no ideer she was a Mug. . ." She cut off her sentence as Cho walked into the room. Cho simply sat at her writing desk, staring out at the sunny spring fields just beyond the castle.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho didn't move for an hour, after which she went down to the Common Room, where she saw Raina and Diana talking. She told them that she had given the scroll to McGonagall, who had pocketed it unread. "For all I know, she still hasn't seen it," she sighed.  
  
"She'll have a lot on her mind," Diana nodded. "It got a Gryffindor-one of hers."  
  
Raina was nervous, almost trembling. "Do you think Professor Flitwick was serious? Could they close Hogwarts?"  
  
Cho simply said, "I only know one thing." Without explaining what that one thing was, she went back up to her dormitory. She stayed there for the rest of the day, not eating or speaking. She waited.  
  
She waited until almost one o'clock in the morning. Then, moving barefoot through the castle as quietly as she could, with her wand in the pocket of her robes, she went to the hospital wing and tried the door. It was locked.  
  
She couldn't leave it like that, though. She gently tapped on the door with her wand. "Alohomora."  
  
The door opened just a crack. Cho slowly and quietly opened it, went inside, and almost ran into Professor Flitwick.  
  
"What are, what are you doing here?" Cho whispered.  
  
"Watching over the beds, letting Madam Pomfrey get a few hours of much- needed sleep. And I can imagine why you're here."  
  
Cho bowed her head. "How many points have I cost us, then?"  
  
"Cost? My dear Miss Chang, I would have been disappointed in you if you hadn't tried to sneak in here tonight. It's one of the reasons I volunteered to keep watch.  
  
"You see, Miss Chang, Madam Pomfrey is a skilled mediwitch and has a very good heart. Sometimes, however, she doesn't understand that not all rules apply in all circumstances. Over the holidays, for example, there was a student here-I won't name any names-who apparently tried to Transfigure herself into a cat. She was only partly successful. Madam Pomfrey kept visitors away from her because she didn't want to make a spectacle of the girl-it would just make her feel worse than she already did. In that case, a ban on visitors makes sense.  
  
"And with the current problem with the monster, it wouldn't do to have people coming in here just to look at the victims. The students would grow fearful, morbid, and maybe out of desperation bring about something even worse. So, there too, Madam Pomfrey is in the right.  
  
"However, I've known since your first day here that you and Miss Clearwater are very much attached to each other. I doubt that anything you could say to her now would make her feel better, but we don't really know these things. But I know that you'll feel better as a result. So, as for keeping you out, I decided, to quote the old Muggle playwright, that 'it is a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance.' Don't take too long." With that, Professor Flitwick stepped aside, allowing Cho to enter the infirmary.  
  
It was a strange place, lit only by moonlight coming through the high windows, yet Cho saw perfectly. She knew which bed she wanted: the last on the left to be occupied. She recognized the long curly hair, now as fixed as stone. She saw Penelope seeming to point with the index finger of one hand; she saw Penny's mouth beginning to open to utter something. It was like looking at a very lifelike statue, yet knowing that a mandragora restorative potion was all that stood between life and death for this statue.  
  
Cho sat on the empty bed next to Penelope's. At first she just sat and stared at the Ravenclaw prefect. Then she gingerly reached out to touch her friend's hand. It was hard and cold as stone.  
  
Cho started to speak just above a whisper. "They say you're still in there, Penny. I know you prefer Penelope now, but I've been thinking about my first days here, when you were still just Penny. I'll never be able to repay all the favours you've done for me, all the help and advice and just sitting and listening while I blather on and on." Cho chuckled. "I guess we're doing it again now, only you're not listening just to be polite. Believe me, Penny, if I could change places with you, I would. If I could have been there with you. . .  
  
"What am I saying?" Cho's voice suddenly had a bitter edge to it. "I'm swearing to save your life like some sort of knight, and I couldn't even protect you from this. Please don't hold that against me. I tried to find a solution the only way I know. I'm sorry if it wasn't enough.  
  
"I can't imagine what your friend Percy is going through right now. Probably worse than the things I'm feeling. All of a sudden, I want to talk to him, to let him know how very valuable you are to me, to let him know that he's not really alone."  
  
Cho sat there for a few more minutes, not really knowing what to say, but just glad to be with Penny, even if she was in her petrified state. Finally, she stood up and walked back to the door, where Professor Flitwick was sitting in a chair, his legs not even touching the floor, reading a well-thumbed copy of "Hogwarts, A History". She silently mouthed "Thank you" to the professor, then left.  
  
No sooner had she closed the door, than she turned and bumped into someone. It was the Hufflepuff Seeker, Cedric Diggory. He seemed to have thrown his robes on over his pajamas, and wore slippers on his feet.  
  
Cho simply said, "He's expecting you," then turned to go.  
  
Before she could take a step, Cedric grabbed her by the elbow. "Why do you do that?"  
  
Cho pulled her elbow out of his grasp. "What?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
"You're always saying and doing things that, well, it's like you're trying to start a fight or something."  
  
"Not really; just keeping you off balance, one Seeker to another."  
  
"But this isn't a match, and I don't see a Snitch around here. Yet you're always saying and doing odd things. Do you think of me as the enemy?"  
  
"Most of the time, Mister Diggory, I don't think of you at all. I came down here to see my friend; what's your excuse?"  
  
"Pomfrey wouldn't let me in, either. I'm here to see Justin. He got attacked. But he doesn't have many friends here. I wanted to see if I could pick up his spirits."  
  
Cho suddenly felt ashamed; the monster had attacked one of her friends, she was helpless to do anything about it, and here she was attacking someone she barely knew, someone who cared just as much about his own friends. Without another word, she bowed to Cedric, turned and ran back to Ravenclaw. It was still the dead of night; she was sure he couldn't have seen her cheeks burning.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 33, wherein the monster is defeated, the school year comes to an end, and Cho realizes what she wants . . .  
  
A/N: The quote by the Muggle playwright is from "Hamlet", Act I scene iv. 


	33. The Last Minute

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
33. The Last Minute  
  
If you had asked Cho about it at the time, she would have denied-quite strongly-that it was anything like a "date". If you had teased her about it, she might have Hexed you with a week's worth of uncomfortable maladies. She didn't really think about it much, and when she did, she considered it an "understanding".  
  
After that visit to the hospital wing early Sunday morning, Cho felt much more at ease, in spite of living in a castle with a monster who still didn't have a name and who could still attack at any moment. She had seen with her own eyes that Penelope and the other victims of the monster didn't require any care, medical or otherwise, and were actually "in storage" until the mandrake roots were fully mature. They were watched over by Professor Pomfrey; Professor Sprout tended the adolescent mandrakes, who were now dressing up their pots with black draperies and writing depressing poetry. Adulthood was not far away.  
  
When Cho saw Penelope Clearwater, she lost her fear of the unknown. Knowing that Penelope was being watched and protected made life more bearable. She was one of the few who moved through the heavily guarded halls of Hogwarts almost oblivious to the gloom and dread.  
  
But there was also her "understanding" with Cedric Diggory. For the next few weeks, Cho showed up at the hospital wing at 1 a.m. Sunday; Professor Flitwick would always let her in and leave her to sit with Penelope. Then she'd leave the hospital wing, and there in the corridor, waiting to visit Justin Finch-Fletchly, was Cedric Diggory. After their first late-night meeting, realizing that they were both on the same mission, Cho stopped trying to tease or tweak the Hufflepuff Seeker. They even exchanged pleasantries, if only for a minute or two in passing.  
  
It was on her third visit that Cho seemed livelier than she had been in months.  
  
"It's almost time!" These were the first words out of her mouth to the unmoving, frozen Penelope Clearwater. "Sprout says the mandrakes should be ready any day now. Then you'll be back! It's funny; when I put it that way, it just seems as if you've been away on a long vacation. You'll be coming back with souvenirs, and maybe pictures of wherever you've been. You won't of course; or maybe you will. I don't think any of us really knows what it's like to be petrified the way you are. Can you hear me, I wonder. Do you dream? Or are you being tortured in some corner of your mind that we can't see yet?  
  
"If you can hear me, Penny, I'll know about it quick enough. Mainly because I've been calling you Penny, like the old days. All I know is, when the potion is ready, I'm going to be there in the hospital wing. I want you to see a friendly face when you get back from your vacation."  
  
Cho almost danced down the aisle between the beds and out the door. Cedric wasn't there. She waited for a few minutes, vaguely bothered that Cedric was late, and vaguely bothered that she was vaguely bothered.  
  
Ten minutes after his time, with the sound of his bedroom slippers flapping on the stone corridor floors, Cedric came running up.  
  
"Overslept?" Cho grinned mischievously.  
  
"In a manner of speaking," Cedric grinned, blushing. "I dozed off over my Arithmancy notes. Monster or no monster, I still have my O.W.L.s coming up, and I'm hopeless in that class."  
  
"So am I," Cho admitted. "There's no rhyme or reason to it. You can just keep juggling and re-juggling numbers until you get an answer you like. Chinese divination is much more exact."  
  
"I hope so, but I don't know. Trelawny doesn't teach that until Sixth Year."  
  
"Well, it should be much easier for you." She started down the hall.  
  
"See you next week!" Cedric called after her.  
  
On an impulse, she turned and called back, "Probably not!" Then she was gone.  
  
Why did I do that? she thought as she made her way back to Ravenclaw. I don't really enjoy teasing him, so why do I do it? Just to hang onto a bit of myself, I suppose; the Ravenclaw Seeker part of me. That part hasn't had a thing to do all year, and it won't until November, at this rate.  
  
xxx  
  
Friday morning, Cho was gathering her books as the end of Charms approached. Charms had never been her easiest class, but Professor Flitwick was head of her House, and besides, he was willing to bend the rules of the hospital wing for her. This made it a pleasure to work all the harder in his class.  
  
Instead of the bell, however, they all heard the voice of Minerva McGonagall, who had been acting as Headmistress since Dumbledore had been forced to resign after the last attack:  
  
"All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staffroom. Immediately, please."  
  
"Nice touch that, 'please,'" Vincent Krixlow muttered. "Pretending it isn't an order."  
  
"Do you think it's another attack?" Raina asked.  
  
"Only one way to find out, isn't there?" Vincent ran on ahead, leaving the others to try to catch up with him. But with his head start, and the other classes soon crowding the halls, the others soon lost sight of Vincent. They got to the tapestry, gave the password ("feldspar"), and passed through the bookcase and into the Common Room.  
  
Vincent was sitting halfway up the library ladder. The ladder, however, wasn't against the bookcases but was blocking the stairs to the boys' dormitories.  
  
"What's the idea?" Pablo Molina demanded.  
  
"Obviously, something happened. The only reason they could have to send us up to the dorms is to keep us from finding out what happened. I don't know about you, but I want to find out for once what's going on around here, and the only way we'll get any answers is if we meet them all together."  
  
By now other Ravenclaws were arriving. "Get off it, Krixlow," Roger Davies said.  
  
"Gladly, if you can tell me what's happened just now. I want answers."  
  
"And I want to get to the loo. Put that up."  
  
"When I get my answers."  
  
"What you'll get is my fist in your conk. Move it!"  
  
"Stop it!" Before she knew what she was doing, Cho was standing between the two. "You've made your point, Vincent. Let him pass."  
  
Before he could do so, though, Professor Flitwick came into the Common Room. "Why aren't you in your dormitories?!"  
  
"We're waiting for you," Vincent said calmly, not moving. "What's happened now?"  
  
The room fell deadly quiet. Flitwick didn't have to stand on a table or raise his voice this time. "My instructions are to tell you to go upstairs and pack your things. You're all going home on the morning train tomorrow."  
  
"But what about the mandrakes? What about the potion?" piped up a Second Year girl.  
  
Cho's mouth had gone dry, and she could barely ask Flitwick, "This isn't another case of paralysis, is it?"  
  
It was all Flitwick could do to keep his voice from breaking. "A First Year Gryffindor was apparently kidnapped, and taken into the Chamber of Secrets. I don't think she's dead yet, but there's not much hope."  
  
"Who is it?" Erasmus Skiddle asked.  
  
"Ginny Weasley."  
  
"BALLOCKS!!"  
  
Everyone turned to look at Vincent Krixlow. "All the attacks have been on Muggle-borns, right? Except for Nick, and he was probably just an accident. But the Weasleys have been wizards for generations. This just doesn't make sense!"  
  
"That has occurred to us also, you know," Flitwick said. "And I'd take points off for your language, Mister Krixlow, except that you're obviously upset. Besides, there's talk of closing Hogwarts because of all this, so what's the sense of points now? Now that you know all that we know, go up to your dorms and pack. I believe the house-elves will bring food to the various Common Rooms." He turned to go.  
  
"Professor!"  
  
The word was out of her mouth so fast that Cho hardly realized she had spoken.  
  
"What is it, Miss Chang?"  
  
"I, er, was wondering. Who's going to pack Penelope Clearwater's things?"  
  
"Ah, yes. Well, we still intend to administer the potion tonight; Professors Sprout and Snape will prepare it as soon as they have notified their Houses. I'm sure she'll be up and able to pack her own things sometime late tonight. One of the few pieces of good news in this whole sorry mess. Forgive me." Flitwick was losing his composure, and practically ran out of the Common Room.  
  
That seemed final. Everyone felt completely deflated as they went upstairs to pack. Nobody spoke, except for Raina, who interrupted her packing at noon to say her midday prayers.  
  
When they were through, and she was rolling up the rug she used for her prayers, Libby Foggly said, to nobody in particular, "What's the point? They're closing Hogwarts."  
  
Raina didn't acknowledge Libby's remark, except to say, also to nobody in particular, "Some things are still bigger than Hogwarts."  
  
Cho had packed only half of her books, and none of her clothes, when she simply stopped and sat down on her bed. Closing Hogwarts meant only one thing to her: the complete end of any hope of playing Quidditch, maybe for the rest of her life.  
  
No: her Quidditch days were not going to end before they'd even started. She was the Ravenclaw Seeker; she didn't come all this way just to go into the books as "the LAST Ravenclaw Seeker." She strode to the door.  
  
"Where yeh goin', then?"  
  
"To get my broom."  
  
The other girls knew never to challenge Cho in matters of Quidditch. She went down to the Common Room, where the house-elves had indeed laid out a cold meat and trifle buffet. A few students picked half-heartedly at the meat; the sweets were untouched.  
  
She was practically through the bookcase when Cho heard: "Stop! Where are you going?"  
  
She turned to face Roger Davies. "To get my broom. Want to come along?"  
  
Roger hesitated; Cho turned and left. Roger dashed out just before the bookcase closed.  
  
"Like Flitwick said," he sighed, "they can't exactly take points now, can they?"  
  
The two of them walked through the deserted halls. Even the paintings found business elsewhere, as they passed rows of empty frames.  
  
Finally, Cho, still looking straight ahead, said, "Why did you come, really?"  
  
Roger paused a minute before answering. "I wish I knew. I could get the broom on the way out tomorrow, or just leave it. It's just a broom, after all. Is yours worth risking your life for?"  
  
"If just being here means I'm at risk, I'd rather spend the time doing what I want. Anyway, I want to find Madam Hooch. She's the only one who's ever given me a straight answer."  
  
"That's not fair, Cho."  
  
"And if you're going to take every little remark personally, then please go back to Ravenclaw. I'll be fine."  
  
"Yes you will, and I'm going to make sure of that."  
  
"Why? Did I say I wanted you to be my bodyguard? You look to your own skin." She started walking again. "Besides," she added bitterly, "we're losing our team. Why should I matter to you?"  
  
"Because you just do, damn it all!" Roger had to run to get in front of Cho to stop her. "It wasn't a simple thing to put you on the team; it was more than just the stroke of a quill. I had to change my way of thinking about a lot of things, and not just Quidditch. And, well, a lot of it had to do with . . ."  
  
"YOU TWO!"  
  
Snape.  
  
"Get back to your House now!"  
  
"What about my broom?"  
  
"Were you planning on flying home ahead of the train? Look at that!" Snape gestured dramatically toward a window in the corridor. They could see what he meant. The sky was literally black with owls coming and going, notifying families of the closing.  
  
"I wouldn't recommend flying on your own. Your brooms will be collected and distributed before you leave. Now get back to your House before something happens."  
  
"Fat lot you care, you and your Slytherin friends."  
  
"I'll ignore that under the circumstances, Miss Chang, but I strongly urge both of you to return to your House now. Professor McGonagall has far too much to deal with already, without having to discipline a couple of impudent young pups."  
  
Cho clearly wanted to answer back; Roger grabbed her shoulders, spun her around, and pushed her back toward Ravenclaw.  
  
After a few steps, she shook herself loose from Roger's grip. They walked most of the way back in silence. Just at the tapestry, though, Cho stopped and turned toward Roger. "You saved me from myself back there. Why didn't you let me tell Snape what I really thought of him?"  
  
"Because now he doesn't have anything to lose, either. I'd hate to see him with his back to the wall."  
  
For the first time that day, Cho smiled. "Thanks." She still made no move to enter the House. "What do you think will happen to us? I mean, where else can we go?"  
  
"There are other schools. My folks will probably want me to stay in Wales, and your folks will want you near London."  
  
"That hardly seems fair, Roger. We could have been a great team. All of us, I mean."  
  
Roger looked as if he was trying to make up his mind what to do or say next. "Let's just get in, then. We can talk later tonight."  
  
xxx  
  
After that, though, Cho stayed in the Common Room, reading through books almost at random, although she kept coming back to "The Broom Gets All the Credit". Eunice Murray had gotten her this far, but didn't seem to have much to say now.  
  
Until page 146:  
  
"That game against Chudley was the worst. It seemed that, for once, they could do no wrong. Their Chasers got past our Keeper at will, while we didn't do much of anything. And every time I saw the Snitch, their Seeker was already in pursuit of it. But as long as it kept getting away, the game wasn't over, and neither was my role. I just had to remember that we were in it until the final minute, and any minute could be the final minute.  
  
"At last, with the Cannons up 140 points on the board, I saw the Snitch making a dive for one of the Chudley hoops. Without even thinking about where I was flying or what would greet me, I sped toward it. So did the other Seeker, but I couldn't worry about that. I pushed myself there as fast as I could, grabbed the Snitch, and won the game by ten points."  
  
After that, Cho stayed in the Common Room, no longer reading but clearly waiting for something. If anyone asked what she was waiting for, she would simply say, "the last minute."  
  
xxx  
  
What Cho was waiting for came around midnight:  
  
"Your attention, please!" echoed the voice of Minerva McGonagall, with a tone nobody in Hogwarts had heard in months. "It is my great pleasure to announce that the monster in the Chamber of Secrets has been slain, and Miss Ginny Weasley has been recovered unharmed. Furthermore, the mandrake potion is being administered to those in the hospital wing. The decision to close Hogwarts has been rescinded. So stop your packing and report to the Great Hall for the biggest feast you'll ever see!"  
  
Cho stayed seated, with a satisfied smile, as the rest of the House rushed through the Common Room. Roger stopped just long enough to ask, "Did you know something about all this?"  
  
"Not really," she smiled. "Talk to you later."  
  
"You will indeed, Miss Seeker." He smiled back as he joined the crowd rushing to the Great Hall.  
  
When they had all passed, though, Cho went off in another direction: toward the hospital wing. As she went, she saw Hermione Granger rush toward, then past her, heading for the Great Hall as if she were trying to outrun time itself.  
  
Now Cho started to run, too.  
  
"Be there, Penny," she whispered; "please, still be there."  
  
As Cho rounded the last corner, she saw someone standing in the corridor in front of the hospital wing door: Percy Weasley. Cho backed into an alcove as the door opened. There stood Penelope Clearwater. She took one look at Percy, then literally threw herself into his open arms. They held onto each other hungrily, they kissed each other fervently. There was clearly no one else on earth. Finally, they broke their kiss and went off to the Great Hall. They never saw Cho.  
  
But Cho watched them, and felt something as she watched them-something she had never in her life felt before. It wasn't jealousy of Penelope, because Cho didn't want Percy. But now she wanted to, longed to, mean as much to someone as those two meant to each other. And she felt it with what could only be called a warm glow in her chest, coming from somewhere near her heart.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 34, wherein Cho finally, but unofficially, makes her debut as Ravenclaw Seeker . . . 


	34. A Day in June

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
34. A Day in June  
  
"And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days When Heaven tries Earth if it be in tune And over it softly her warm ear lays."-JRLowell  
  
xxx  
  
Hogwarts did well to cancel all exams after Ginny Weasley was released from the Chamber of Secrets. Between the relief that the year-long tension had been dispelled, the rejoicing over the return of Dumbledore and Hagrid, the summary departure of Gilderoy Lockhart, and the gloriously fine weather that settled in for the final weeks of the term, no student would have been able to study-even if they'd wanted to do so.  
  
The school had a three-week holiday until the Hogwarts Express would return the students to London on the 19th-not, as at Christmas, in headlong fearful flight, but tanned and happy and sated with good meals and other sweet things.  
  
The students of Ravenclaw House didn't have to spend their time reading, but many of them did it anyway. Only now, they could read whatever they chose and wherever they chose: out on the stone steps, or under a tree by the lake, or in the stands of the empty Quidditch stadium. Unfortunately for the teams at Hogwarts, there wasn't enough time to actually schedule a match.  
  
Which is why Cho's first match was unscheduled as well as unofficial.  
  
It started late on the morning of 7 June. In the Great Hall, some table had to be next to Slytherin's, and that unfortunate honour fell to Ravenclaw. Cho and Raina were among the last ones at table, Raina absently drawing patterns in her porridge with her spoon, while Cho sopped up some egg yolk with a corner of toast.  
  
"Well, well; if it isn't the Sand Witch."  
  
Draco Malfoy; Cho didn't have to turn to look at him. She could sense his smirk, just as she could sense that he was, as usual, flanked by two cloddish Slytherins named Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
Raina glanced at the Head Table. There were only a few faculty members there at this hour, and one of them was Professor Snape. Surely Malfoy wouldn't start tormenting Raina in front of the Head of his own House-or would he?  
  
"Give it up, Malfoy," Cho said smoothly, her back turned to Malfoy; "your jokes aren't half as funny as your Seeking."  
  
For the first time in memory, colour came to Draco Malfoy's face. He collected himself, then made a great show of slowly inspecting Cho, first from one side, then from the other.  
  
"And you would be Cho Chang. I understand your teammates broke some bones and you had to be carried to the hospital wing when you tried out. That would make you Chinese carry-out, wouldn't it?" Crabbe and Goyle laughed dutifully, as if they hadn't quite got it. "Goes quite well with a Sand Witch, I'm sure. So, do you?"  
  
"Do I what?"  
  
"Get on with the Sand Witch? You know what they say about Quidditch girls. Can I expect to find you two snogging in some dark corner sometime?"  
  
Raina kept her head down. She was nearly in tears, but didn't want the others to know that. Cho decided to pay him back in his own coin. "Why?" she asked sweetly. "Would you like to watch? Of course, that's probably all you can do."  
  
Draco's smirk turned at once into a scowl. "Maybe you don't think the Slytherin Snake stands for anything."  
  
Cho glanced at Draco. "In your case, I'd say a garden slug."  
  
Draco knocked the flagon of pumpkin juice from in front of Cho and drew his livid face within an inch of hers. "You will talk to me with respect, you filthy . . ."  
  
"MISTER MALFOY!"  
  
Snape. From the corner of her eye, she could see him standing at the Head Table, glaring down at them.  
  
Draco took a step toward Snape. "But, sir, she started it, calling me . . ."  
  
"I don't care who started it; I am finishing it. Just because exams are over and the House Cup has been awarded, that does not mean that I cannot mete out detentions. Say one more word to each other and you'll both find that out."  
  
Draco angrily turned his back on Cho and sat at the Slytherin table.  
  
"Garden slug? Good one, Cho."  
  
Roger Davies was standing behind Raina, who took advantage of his arrival to get up and run back to Ravenclaw House. Roger sat in her place; Raina's dirty dishes were immediately replaced with clean ones.  
  
"How much of that did you hear?"  
  
"I was just passing through the Great Hall. I looked in, saw Malfoy moving in on you, and wanted to be sure you were all right."  
  
"I think I can hold my own," Cho smiled.  
  
"Not on the pitch, you can't," Malfoy muttered, just loud enough for them to hear.  
  
Roger glanced up at the ceiling. "Did you hear something, Cho? Sounded like a Seeker who's lost every match he's played."  
  
"At least he's played a match."  
  
Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Captain, had shown up and was standing next to Draco.  
  
Cho turned to Roger. "Given the outcome, if I were he I'd hardly admit to it."  
  
Draco muttered again: "At least I was beaten by a proper wizard. My father would never let me hear the end of it if I lost to some yellow mongrel."  
  
Roger was out of his seat like a jack-in-the-box. He managed to check himself as he walked over to Malfoy. "Would you care to repeat that?"  
  
Now Flint was up, glaring eye to eye at Roger. "You wouldn't be threatening a member of my team, would you?"  
  
"No, threats are more your style."  
  
"I've nothing better to do, Ravenclaw. Perhaps you'd like to settle this one on one."  
  
The idea came to Cho in a flash. "Why not seven on seven?"  
  
Both Davies and Flint turned to look at her. She went on: "Both teams in the stadium in one hour."  
  
Flint attempted to grin at Cho, but came across more like a wolf baring his misshapen fangs. "I guess lessons aren't all over for this term. You've got your hour, then." He practically pulled Draco off the bench as they left the Great Hall.  
  
Roger turned to Cho. "What were you thinking just now?"  
  
"That those bullies need to be taught a lesson, and that I'm going to explode if I don't have a match!"  
  
"But the equipment, a referee . . ."  
  
"Are already taken care of." Cho nodded toward the Head Table, where Madam Hooch was sitting, staring directly at Cho, an interesting grin on her face. Cho rose. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think we both have a match to prepare for."  
  
xxx  
  
Cho raced up to her dormitory and began her pre-game ritual. Her dorm mates realized that something was up, but dared not question her about it. Instead, having nothing else to do, they waited silently with a growing sense of excitement as Cho spelled up her hair and trimmed her nails. She then put on her robes and, followed by her dorm mates, went down to the Common Room.  
  
There the rest of the team was waiting, along with about thirty other Ravenclaws who realized an impromptu match was about to take place.  
  
"Right," Roger said when Cho entered the room. "Now, all we have to do is stay alert out there. Their Beaters are going to be all over us; Jinx, you and Becksnee need to play defense. And keep your eye on Cho; give her back up when she needs it." The two Beaters nodded. He turned to Cho. "Well, you got us into this, and frankly I'm glad you did. It's getting a little boring around here, and I like the idea of taking Slytherin down a peg."  
  
"I won't let you down, Roger," Cho said.  
  
Roger looked as if he wanted to say something else, but instead simply said, "Let's go."  
  
When the Ravenclaw team arrived at the stadium, the Slytherin team was waiting, along with Madam Hooch. "You understand," Hooch said, "that this is an unofficial match. It won't matter who wins or loses."  
  
"It'll matter to us," Roger said, speaking for the teams, and maybe for the fifty or so students who had gotten wind of the match and were in the stands.  
  
"You all know the rules, then. Line up!" Hooch looked at the players, her gaze resting a bit longer on Cho than on the others, and blew her whistle. The players kicked up off the pitch and into the sky. She released the Quaffle, Bludgers and Snitch, then sailed up herself to referee the game and keep score.  
  
It became evident from the first second that the Slytherins were out for a bloody win. Their players put in elbows and feet whenever they could, hoping that Hooch wouldn't catch them at it. Unfortunately for them, she caught almost all of their fouls, but they often ignored her whistle. Bletchley the Slytherin Keeper managed to deflect most of the penalty shots, but it made for a slow-moving game.  
  
As for the Seekers, Cho took a position above the play, while Draco hunted aggressively closer to the ground. Neither had much success finding the Snitch at first, and as play progressed, the day grew hotter than Draco was used to playing in. Cho, however, had practiced in hotter weather during her summer sessions in the Puddlemere stadium. If she was sweating at all, it was from nerves rather than the heat. After thirty minutes of play, Slytherin was up 80 to 50, and still no sign of the Snitch.  
  
No; there! It was traveling in the wake of a Slytherin Beater. She flew above and past him, then quickly turned and dove down.  
  
Draco caught all this, though, from halfway across the field. His 2001 closed the distance in no time, which frightened Cho; she hadn't encountered that kind of speed in practice. She wove back and forth, trying to keep Draco from passing, but he was actually hitting her broomstick with his own.  
  
Then, with a loud WHAM! WHAM!, Draco was hit by Bludgers, one at each shoulder. His hands slipped from the broom, he lost control and swerved away from Cho, who reached forward, almost standing up on her broom, as she caught the Snitch.  
  
"Ravenclaw wins, 200 to 80!" shouted Hooch.  
  
The Ravenclaws in the stands cheered as if they'd won back the House Cup. The Ravenclaw players were as ecstatic as the Slytherins were disgruntled. But Cho Chang was beside herself. Madam Hooch had to tell her three times to give back the Golden Snitch; Cho simply refused to let it go. It was as if she couldn't believe that the day had finally come: she had won a match as Ravenclaw's Seeker. She had captured the Snitch!  
  
As Hooch finally pried her hand open, Cho turned to the Slytherins. "That was delightful; we must do it again some time." They walked back to the castle without answering.  
  
Roger burst out laughing, threw his arms around Cho, then seemed to remember himself and hurriedly let go. "So, er, you finally did it. How does it feel?"  
  
"Like something I'll remember until the day I die," she smiled radiantly. Before she could say anymore, Jan and Raina and the other Ravenclaws from the stands ran onto the field and mobbed her.  
  
"You were wonderful!" Raina gushed.  
  
"Best match I've seen here," Terry Boot said, clapping Cho on the back.  
  
"That was a pretty sight, buryin' those snakes," Jan beamed.  
  
Cho glanced back at Madam Hooch, who didn't say a word, but nodded her head and beamed.  
  
"So," said Cho as calmly as she could, "what about lunch? I'm famished!"  
  
As they all headed back to the castle, Cho felt that she was walking on air without a broom. Her first match was finally, finally behind her, and it was a win against Slytherin, and she was only days away from her trip to China. How could life be any better?  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 35, wherein Cho tells of her trip to China-the good and the bad of it 


	35. How I Spent My Summer Vacation

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
35. How I Spent My Summer Vacation  
  
Cho was in Diagon Alley for only the first and last weeks of the summer vacation. She was so busy preparing to go to China, and then when she returned she was so busy preparing for her Fourth Year at Hogwarts, that she hardly noticed what went on in her parents' apothecary shoppe.  
  
"There was something exciting happened last week," reported Mo Tan, a neighbor who watched the shoppe while they were gone. "Young boy comes in for school supplies. I see his green eyes, and the scar on his head; it's Ha Li Po Te! He was right here!"  
  
"Of course," Cho nodded. "We both go to Hogwarts."  
  
"I wish I'd been here to meet him," said Cho's mother.  
  
So do I, thought Cho, for an entirely different reason.  
  
xxx  
  
The weather started out bad on 1 September, 1993, with a cold gray sky over London. It would get worse and worse as the train traveled north to the Scottish border, with rain settling in and becoming a torrent. Before that, though, the students who filled the compartments of the Hogwarts Express turned on the lights, shared the refreshments and kept a last little bit of summer alive.  
  
One of these compartments was taken over by students from Ravenclaw House. They had managed to squeeze ten into a compartment that barely held six; they were standing by the window and sitting on the floor and lingering in the corridor by the open door as one student after another told how they spent their summer vacation.  
  
Fifth-Year Annabella Smoot was holding the floor just now. She was telling a story similar to others that had been told that day: of glorious sunlit beaches (in her case, in the south of France), of handsome young wizards in extremely tight swimsuits, and the all-important First Kiss. She was just at the part where she was gasping for breath and on the point of fainting from her romantic encounter when Penelope Clearwater spoke up: "I've lost count, Anna; is that your third First Kiss or your fourth?"  
  
The others laughed, but Annabella simply grinned like a Cheshire cat.  
  
"Every kiss can be a First Kiss if you work it right."  
  
This brought even more laughter from her listeners, who included Sixth-Year Quidditch Captain Roger Davies and Seventh Year Penelope Clearwater. They'd brought their own snacks especially for gatherings like this: bottles of butterbeer bought in Diagon Alley. Among the youngest students there was Cho. She sat nursing a butterbeer, with an open book in her lap, next to Penelope.  
  
Penelope had just finished telling the group about the weekend her family spent in Penzance on the Cornish coast, and how, when they went to see a Muggle theater piece called "The Pirates of Penzance", it was announced from the stage during the interval that one of the minor-role actresses had taken ill. "So I went round and knocked on the stage door," she explained; "I thought maybe I could look at her and cure her on the sly. Well, as soon as they see me, they drag me to a dressing room and start pulling my clothes off!"  
  
Eyebrows went up all around the compartment.  
  
"It was nothing like that," she laughed, "because then they started pulling this costume onto me. They'd thought I was the sick girl's replacement!" Everyone laughed. "I shouldn't have straightened it out; I could have been a star."  
  
"What did Percy say about that?" asked Smoot.  
  
"You can imagine. He got all hot and bothered about it for five minutes; then, when he saw it was nothing, we had a good laugh about it." She shook her head. "But he does jump into things feet first sometimes."  
  
Penelope looked at Cho as if to say, "Your turn". Cho took another pull on her butterbeer and looked around the other Ravenclaws.  
  
"The Northern Plain," she began; "the land north of the Yangtze River. That's where my family's from. I was born in London shortly after they got here, so I never saw China. Until this summer."  
  
Almost everyone leaned forward. They could tell that Cho had something special to tell.  
  
"I went with my parents and we stayed with my mother's mother; we all just call her Granny Li. She was originally from a small village on the Northern Plain; a shamaness from a long line of them. But when she was young she wanted to go to the Big City and get away from the country, so she packed up and went to Zhangzhou, and let her younger sister worry about the village magic.  
  
"We took our time; took a cruise ship around Africa and India and made port in Singapore. From there on, it had to be a matter of evading border guards and whatnot, so we unpacked our brooms and headed north."  
  
"Long trip by broom, isn't it?" Davies asked.  
  
"About the same as from Hogwarts to London."  
  
"But what about passports and things? And the Muggles who are running China now, the what-do-ye-call-em, the Clam-u-nists?"  
  
"When we got off the ship, my father said that we'd be in Singapore on business for four weeks, so they didn't bother to look for us. And we didn't have to worry once we got to the village. Mainly because it's such a small place, and so far out of the way, that the government Muggles simply never come there. The villagers told us it's been ages since they needed to use a disguising charm.  
  
"Well, the instant we touch down in the village, Granny Li takes over. A dozen little old ladies run out of their houses to meet her, and she introduces my parents and me. I know the Mandarin dialect, but they're speaking some Chinese I'd never heard before, and they're speaking it so fast that I had no idea what was going on half of the time.  
  
"But within an hour I found out what was happening. These little old ladies dragged me away from my parents, took me to one of their houses, served up a great pot of tea, and started bringing in young men I'm supposed to think about marrying!"  
  
"They're not too bashful, are they?" Terry Boot, lingering at the open doorway, chuckled. He was a Third Year.  
  
"I think they were a bit desperate. I mean, being all alone in the countryside is good in some ways, but they were running out of people to marry. They were anxious for some new blood, and I think they were hoping to send someone back to England with me."  
  
"But you're only fourteen!" Davies interrupted.  
  
"Oh, parents in China arrange for their children to be betrothed even younger than that! Not that anyone does anything about it; it's just an understanding for the most part. But the old witches made sure I also met village girls who were my age, all of whom were married and some of whom had already had a child or two. Just to be sure I got the message."  
  
"Excuse me for saying it, Cho, but that's bloody barbaric," Annabella Smoot said.  
  
"You're excused," Cho smiled sweetly at Annabella, even though most of the others, which knew her better than Annabella, realized that Cho was containing her anger at the insult.  
  
One of the Ravenclaw Chasers, Erasmus Skiddle, seemed very nervous as he asked, "Well, if they're that concerned about getting in new blood, does that mean there may be something wrong with the old blood? I mean, did they say anything about having a problem with, er, consanguinity?"  
  
"Not the way you mean it," Cho replied, "but it made life a bit awkward in some respects. I mean, as it turned out, I was related to just about everyone in the village, one way or another, so most of the time marriage was right out. The old man we rented rooms from turned out to be the cousin of a cousin on my mother's side. We stayed just across the road from a little grocery shoppe, and the woman who ran the shoppe--let me be sure I've got this bit right--was the daughter of the uncle of my granny's sister's husband's youngest son."  
  
Everyone laughed as they gave up trying to straighten out the family tree. "So what did that mean in the real world?" Davies asked.  
  
"Well, among other things, it meant that I could cross the road to the shoppe, take anything off the shelves and not have to pay for it." Everyone laughed again. "Don't get me wrong; we settled accounts at the end of the visit. To tell the truth, they were desperately poor by our standards; then again, if they'd had the money, there still weren't many places to spend it. They'd have had to travel miles to a big city."  
  
"And what about books?" Penelope asked.  
  
"Of course there were books. Every house had its own copy of what they call the Five Great Classics; Confucius swore by them centuries ago. About the only one that still gets read a lot is the I Ching."  
  
Eyes rolled toward the ceiling. The I Ching was one of the divination texts taught by Madam Trelawny, although not until Sixth Year. All agreed that she didn't teach it particularly well.  
  
"Any other interesting discoveries?" Davies asked.  
  
"Well, they say Chinese wizards never took to brooms because they used to ride about on clouds. That's changing these days, and most of the really old people of the village-the ones who still know how to ride clouds-didn't want to tell me how to do it. I think they considered me a foreigner.  
  
"Oh, and there was one more thing." Cho looked around the group before she said one word: "Fireballs."  
  
"Fireballs!" Terry Boot exclaimed. "You mean, you mean..."  
  
"Some of the villagers took us out into the wild, about seventy miles northwest of the village. They stopped at the head of a pass and pointed out a mountain. You don't see anything like Chinese mountains in the British Isles. It's as if some gigantic child dripped wet sand through its fingers, and these tall, thin solitary mountains are the result. Anyway, even though we were far away, we could see three dragons roaming up and down this one mountain. Magnificent."  
  
"Did you bring one back, then?" Roger Davies joked.  
  
"In a manner of speaking; thanks for reminding me." Cho opened her trunk, got out a bundle wrapped in red paper and handed it to Roger. "You did request it, and you shouldn't have to wait until Christmas."  
  
Roger tore open the paper, and pulled out a large white pullover shirt, with Chinese writing on both sides and a large red serpentine dragon with gold-trimmed scales embroidered all the way around it.  
  
"Chinese wizards are just starting to play Quidditch, believe it or not. They've been cut off from the rest of the world for centuries. But this is a jersey for the Fukien Fireballs. It's an exhibition team; they're not yet sanctioned by the International Association.  
  
"Apart from that, I met a niece in the village who's actually older than I am, and she had a child, which made me a great-aunt, and I STILL don't know how that works!"  
  
Penelope raised her butterbeer for one last toast; "Here's to a year with no hidden basilisks, no bathroom trolls and-once again--the Quidditch Cup to Ravenclaw!"  
  
Penelope clinked her bottle against Cho's, and all around the compartment drank and cheered.  
  
"No pressure, though, right?" Davies touched Cho on the shoulder.  
  
"Don't worry, Roger," Cho smiled. "I'm no Madam Trelawny, but I have a feeling this will be a special year."  
  
Penelope stood up and stretched, almost falling over as she did so when the train took a sharp turn. "I have to stretch my legs a bit. Can you come with me, Cho?"  
  
They walked down the corridor toward the baggage van, passing other compartments with other students-laughing, talking, even reading. Cho couldn't tell if Harry Potter was in any of the compartments they passed.  
  
"How is Percy?" Cho asked.  
  
"He's been riding clouds himself ever since he found out he was Best Boy. I have to work to get his attention." They'd reached the van; Penelope opened the door and motioned for Cho to step inside. They entered a car full of trunks, suitcases, and the sounds and smells of hundreds of animals.  
  
"What's this all about?" Cho asked.  
  
"You tell me," Penelope replied. "I could tell, all the while you talked about China, that there was something wrong. What is it?"  
  
Cho sat down on someone's trunk with a sigh. "You're very good, you know."  
  
"I just know what to look for," Penelope smiled.  
  
Cho started drumming her fingers on the trunk. "When my mum and grandmother started in on marriage, and I'd only been there an hour, well, it made my blood boil! Who did they think they were? Who did they think I was?"  
  
"They didn't make any arrangements, did they?"  
  
"Not that I know of. But it would be just like my mum to arrange for my engagement, and then spring it on me this Christmas." Cho sat in silence for a minute. "You once said that finding out how you felt about Percy wasn't a big all-at-once feeling, but grew over time."  
  
Penelope nodded. "But it doesn't always have to happen that way. I spent a little time with Percy's parents this summer. THEY have some stories to tell!" she chuckled. "I guess there's no right or wrong; it happens the way it happens."  
  
"Well, I don't want some sort of Chinese arrangement to happen!" Cho said as she stood up. "Can't I make my own choice?"  
  
"You may think you're making the choice, Cho, but believe me, sometimes the choice makes you." Cho must have looked completely bewildered, because Penelope just laughed. "Never mind. We can talk more about this later."  
  
Together they walked back to their compartment.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 36, when the lights go out on the Hogwarts Express 


	36. Ghost Eaters

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
36. Ghost-Eaters  
  
The further north the Hogwarts Express got, the darker the sky grew and the harder the rain beat against the window glass. Just south of the border with Scotland, the train made a quick stop at Snitter's Run to pick up students like Jan Nugginbridge who lived in the north. She rushed onto the train from the platform, with her cat Coriander bundled under her robes. After a quick drying charm to get rid of the rain, she went looking for Cho.  
  
Jan found the Ravenclaw compartment with Cho, Penelope, Libby Foggly and Raina. The others had gotten restless being so close to Hogwarts, and were visiting other compartments.  
  
"Here yeh are! How was China?"  
  
"Wonderful; amazing. There's not enough time to tell it all again; I'll do it in the Common Room after dinner."  
  
The moment Jan sat down, the lights went out.  
  
"What happened?" Penelope asked.  
  
"Wait!" Libby said. They listened; they could hear, then feel, the train coming to a halt.  
  
"This isn't Hogsmeade," Raina said, with worry in her voice. "We're nowhere."  
  
It was almost useless to look out the window. They were miles from Hogwarts, or Hogsmeade, or Snitter's Run, or any other sign of civilization. The rain only made the blackness even more absolute.  
  
"Somethin's gone funny wi' the train, then?" Jan asked.  
  
"Listen!" Libby shushed them, almost angrily. It was as if she knew something was going to happen.  
  
Cho strained to hear or see anything. There was an angry voice in the corridor, further up the train, then the sound of compartment doors opening and closing. Someone was searching compartments one by one.  
  
When that someone came to Cho's compartment-they still couldn't see a thing in the pitch blackness, but it was as if an emotion slapped Cho in the face. That was the only way she could describe it afterwards; a feeling that forced itself on her, telling her, "You will feel this." And what she felt was dread. It was the kind of profound gut-sick feeling she had felt when it looked like Ravenclaw would conspire to keep her off the team-only magnified a hundredfold. Whatever the feeling was, it felt like there would be no Quidditch ever again.  
  
Then, as immediately as the feeling jumped onto Cho, it jumped away. It didn't leave her as she was before, though; she still carried an after- taste of sorrow and loss and bleakness. She wanted to throw open the window, stick her head out into the night, and let the wind and rain try to wash the awful feeling off of her.  
  
And then, with a jerk, the train started up again. The lights came back on. Cho looked around the compartment; clearly, each of the other girls had been through a similar experience. Even Coriander, usually a fearless cat, was shivering in Jan's lap.  
  
All were affected, that is, except Libby Foggly. She seemed to be excited by it all. "D'you know what that was?" she said excitedly, looking around at the others.  
  
"I don't want to know," Raina quickly answered.  
  
"That was a dementor; one of the guards of Azkaban."  
  
"How do you know?" Cho asked. "We couldn't see anything."  
  
"My father had to deal with one before; it was a security matter for his business. I remember the way it made me feel."  
  
"You look right enough now," Jan said suspiciously.  
  
"I learned how to get on with them. They're not really real, you know. They're ghost eaters?"  
  
"What?" Penelope asked.  
  
"They live off of thoughts and feelings. There used to be all different kinds. Like succubi and incubi, for instance; they live off of sexual feelings. But these dementors are the last of their kind left in any number, and that's because the Ministry uses them out at Azkaban."  
  
"The prison, you mean, where that Sirius Black . . ."  
  
Libby nodded. "I think they were checking the train for Black, although why they didn't check it at King's Cross is a mystery to me. What would they want at Hogwarts anyway?"  
  
"Y'mean yeh know about those things, but yeh don' know about Black?" Jan sounded more than a little superior. Before she could say anything else, though, the train came to a stop. They were finally in Hogsmeade. "Tell yeh in the coach, then." Jan grabbed up Coriander and almost ran out of the compartment.  
  
All up and down the train, students were doing the same thing. Not just because a long ride was over; they felt that, after exposure to the dementors, they needed to breathe fresh air and feel the rain on their faces-even though the rain came in sheets as hard and cold as a mountain waterfall.  
  
Jan, Cho, Libby and Raina rushed into one carriage. Penelope excused herself to ride with her boyfriend, Percy Weasley. The others looked expectantly at Jan. "Well, yeh know the story o' Harry Potter. But there's one part hardly ever gets tol'. The Dark Lord come lookin' fer the Potters, y'see, but he had a hard time findin' 'em. They'd turned to their bes' frien' to be a Secret-Keeper an' not reveal where they were hidin'. Only, he did."  
  
"Sirius Black?" Cho asked in a hushed voice.  
  
"Aye. Gave 'em up; then attacked that other wizard and them Muggles."  
  
"How do you know all this?" Libby asked.  
  
"My da went to Hogwarts wi' Harry's parents. Seems they got into more than their share o' trouble when they were our age, but when they were older an' got out an' got married, my da says that a nicer witch and wizard ye'd ne'er find."  
  
The rain had stopped during the carriage ride; they stepped out into a cold, damp night and onto the great stone steps leading up to the castle.  
  
"One question, though," Cho started.  
  
"Jes' the one, then?" Jan smiled.  
  
Just then, they saw the Sorting Hat being brought into the Great Hall, but by Professor Flitwick. Usually this was the job of Professor McGonagall as Deputy Headmistress. Just one more odd circumstance to add to a very unusual first day back.  
  
Cho was actually glad to see the usual number of new wizards and witches. After all the problems with the Chamber of Secrets and the school on the brink of being shut down, she half-expected parents to send their children elsewhere for a magical education. Still, the typical number of First Years-about fifty-was milling about, waiting to be assigned to one House or another.  
  
At last, with the final new wizard Sorted ("Tindolini, Milo" "HUFFLEPUFF!"), and with remarks by Albus Dumbledore about the dementors being at the entrances to Hogwarts, the feast finally got underway.  
  
"Those dementors are awful!" Letitia Groondy complained. "Make you feel like there's nothing but rottenness in the world."  
  
"They're still looking for Sirius Black," commented Diana Fairweather. "Although that's a lost cause."  
  
"What makes you say that?" Vincent Krixlow asked.  
  
"They may be guarding the grounds, but who's watching the skies? What's to stop him sailing in on a broom some night? I've never heard of a dementor riding a broomstick."  
  
"He'd make a lovely Keeper, though, wouldn't he, Rog? The other side wouldn't want to get anywhere near the goals." "Jinx" Jenkins tried to joke about the dementors to Quidditch Captain Roger Davies, but Cho suspected his heart really wasn't in it.  
  
"Let's leave all Quidditch talk until tomorrow, shall we?" Roger replied. "Those things just leave the place feeling like . . ." He didn't even try to finish the sentence.  
  
"So, Cho," Jan suddenly said, "you had a question?"  
  
Jan had caught Cho with a mouthful of pork pie, and had to wait until Cho swallowed to answer. Worse, Cho realized her situation and started to giggle-as best she could with her mouth full-which just prolonged her inability to ask the question. Still, her muffled laughter was one of the few sounds of happiness returning to the Great Hall.  
  
"I meant to ask," Cho finally gasped out, "about the Potters. What did the Dark Lord want with them particularly?"  
  
"Well, they were an example, weren' they? They stood up to him, refused to join, an' gave others a reason not to join. With the Dark Lord it was all er nothin'."  
  
"What was so special about them?"  
  
"Ah, well, my father never really tol' me that bit. In fact, there's lots 'bout them days that he's never tol' me. He just says, 'when ye're older.' Well, I'm sendin' an owl straightaway tonight! If I'm ol' enough to put up wi' them dementors, I'm ol' enough to hear the rest of the story."  
  
"Just remember the old saying," Krixlow said as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and rose to go to Ravenclaw. "Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it. Ta."  
  
"Cheery little bugger. What's got his spirits up?" Diana asked.  
  
Cho thought she knew. It had been almost two hours since her encounter with the dementor on the train, and the effect of it was finally gone. A good meal, good friends, familiar surroundings, warm fire; these things were enough to make one forget the dementors.  
  
Almost.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 37, wherein the Boggart shows itself to Cho's class, and preparations for the Quidditch season are interrupted by two different gatherings in the Great Hall 


	37. Real and Imagined

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
37. Real and Imagined  
  
"Miss Chang. Just a word, if you don't mind."  
  
The one thought running through her head was: "Why me? Why is Professor Lupin singling me out?"  
  
The Ravenclaw Fourth Years had just finished their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class under Remus Lupin, and they'd all counted it a rousing success. It started out as a scary prospect-practical lessons in the Dark Arts risked being very dangerous. Yet the assignment was not only easy (confronting a relatively harmless Boggart) but was made funny as well: Professor Remus Lupin taught them the Riddikulus spell. It took the Boggart, which changed itself into what people fear the most, and broke up the fear by making it look foolish.  
  
It was certainly the most varied group of students Lupin had met yet at Hogwarts, and their visions were equally varied. Raina al-Qaba imagined the Boggart turning into a giant horned ogre, its head brushing the ceiling- one of the more frightening monsters out of the Arabian Nights. Her Riddikulus turned it into a stork, hopping about the room on one leg.  
  
Grimaldi, on the other hand, tried to scam Lupin, but the professor locked the wardrobe before the Boggart, who now let out a high feminine giggle, would emerge.  
  
"Honestly, Professor," Grimaldi begged, "I'm terrified of beautiful naked women!"  
  
Lupin waited until he was satisfied that the Boggart wasn't being fooled by Grimaldi's prank; when it finally came after Grimaldi, it was as a giant octopus.  
  
Cho's Boggart, however, caused Lupin to keep her after class. There was no hurry-the class was on its way to lunch anyway-but she didn't want to be singled out, especially not because of this.  
  
"Miss Chang, would you mind telling me what the Boggart was supposed to be?"  
  
"I'd rather not, Professor."  
  
"But why not? It appeared to be a disheveled young man; looks like he might have been someone I once knew."  
  
Cho stayed silent.  
  
"You weren't thinking of Sirius Black, were you?"  
  
"No, sir," she answered honestly. "This was a real Muggle I once, er, met." She didn't say any more.  
  
After a minute, Lupin walked to the wardrobe. "If I let it out again, will it be the same?" Cho nodded. "Then the Riddikulus wasn't enough. Tell me, why did your Riddikulus spell make the Boggart stop, with his trousers down around his ankles?"  
  
Cho's cheeks coloured. "I, I didn't plan it that way; not at first."  
  
Cho was still standing by the first row of benches. Lupin sat on top of his desk. "I have to make sure that we don't have a problem here. Getting along in this world is hard enough when people don't say all that they need to say. In the Dark Arts, though, it's extremely dangerous. It's one thing when you can manipulate Charms and Potions; but imagine what could happen if they started to manipulate you. I can see that you're uncomfortable about this, but I have to know: who is the Muggle?"  
  
"He's just-some man I saw in a library once."  
  
"Just a derelict, nothing more?"  
  
"No." Cho was surprised to find herself shaking. "I was in a library at closing time. He was there, and he-he came after me."  
  
"And you ran?"  
  
"He blocked the way."  
  
"But you escaped him?"  
  
"I used a Petrificus. I knew nobody would believe his story."  
  
"Sounds as if you managed the thing very well. So what frightens you?"  
  
"When it happened, I was twelve, and I guess I just thought he was going to . . . I didn't really know what he was going to do to me. Now I'm older, and I can imagine it. That's what scares me now; thinking about what might have happened."  
  
Cho was still shuddering; Lupin put his hands on her shoulders, and looked deeply into her eyes with his.  
  
"All of your classmates fancied the Boggart into monsters from the magical world: giants, harpies, ogres. You're the only one who faced down a real monster. I'd say that's worth an extra five points."  
  
Cho blinked. "That's it? There's no problem?"  
  
"Of course not," Remus laughed. "You've shown more sense than just about anyone else in this school. You and Harry Potter."  
  
Harry?!? "Can you tell me-what was his Boggart?"  
  
Lupin sighed. "His Boggart-IF I had let it out of the cupboard, which I wasn't about to-would have been a Dementor. As if you couldn't see one by looking out a window. Very bad idea." Lupin was standing at the staff room's one window, looking out on the lawn. Cho couldn't tell if he could see a Dementor.  
  
After a bit, Lupin seemed to remember that Cho was still in the room. "Well," he said brightly, "let's see what's for lunch."  
  
"If you don't mind, I'd like to drop these off," Cho quickly said. "Thanks for the lesson!" And she was off, running toward Ravenclaw.  
  
Through the tapestry ("prehensile"), through the bookcase, through the Common Room and up to her dormitory, Cho ran as fast as she could. She almost collided with Raina, who was just on her way down to lunch. Cho threw her bookbag under her desk, sat heavily on her bed, buried her face in her pillow and forced her breathing to slow down, waiting for her heartbeat to become regular.  
  
She hadn't realized what seeing the vagrant-the Muggle who she now realized surely would have tried to rape her if he'd had the chance-would do to her emotions.  
  
She didn't come down to lunch at all that day.  
  
xxx  
  
The following Saturday was Quidditch practice for the Ravenclaw team. All of the players were back this year, and all of them were eager to try out new plays, new equipment and ideas.  
  
Roger Davies was still the Captain, and he didn't use most of the suggestions from the players, even after listening to them.  
  
"But ROG!" "Jinx" Jenkins, a Beater, was especially upset. "You saw how well the 'back-up' worked!" In an improvised game with Slytherin just before summer holidays, they used a play that Jinx had developed. While Cho was chasing the Snitch, and Draco Malfoy was chasing Cho, the Ravenclaw Beaters hit Malfoy with Bludgers in both shoulders, causing him to lose control.  
  
"So did Slytherin," Roger said. "They'll be ready for it next time, and a secret weapon's no good if it isn't a secret. We can still use it; just not in our first game."  
  
"Then we'd better come up with a few more tricks like that one. I think this year's going to be rough. For once, we have to worry about all the others, even Hufflepuff."  
  
"You're joking," Chaser Erasmus Skiddle said. "They have a new Captain, then?"  
  
"Diggory the Seeker." Skiddle snorted with laughter. "Don't be so quick to judge. He's been working on the game this summer, too. I was over near his town for a bit this summer, Ottery St. Catchpole. He's really throwing himself into the game."  
  
"That's Hufflepuff, though, isn't it?" Chaser Pablo Molina asked. "Fly hard when you can't fly smart."  
  
"Just keep your broom on its toes, as it were; that's all I'm saying."  
  
Roger turned to Cho, seeming to ask a question without speaking. Cho simply nodded and smiled.  
  
xxx  
  
The talk at dinner that night was less sportsmanlike.  
  
"You're going to be our secret weapon this year, right?" Vincent Krixlow said to Cho.  
  
Cho eyed him warily, saying nothing. She knew how his mind worked.  
  
Krixlow turned to others at the table. "All she has to do is arrange a date with the other Seeker the night before the game, get them up to the Astronomy Tower, get them good and worn out . . ."  
  
He didn't get any farther than that; Cho bounced an apple off of his forehead with a Levitation Charm, nearly knocking him out. She smiled sweetly at Vincent: "Next time, it'll be the water pitcher."  
  
xxx  
  
The weeks sailed by in a routine of classes, meals, study and Quidditch practice. Before Cho even realized it herself, the first Hogsmeade trip of the year was at hand; and so was the Halloween feast. And in one week, the first Quidditch match of the year.  
  
Maybe it was the presence of the dementors around Hogwarts, but Cho and the girls from her dorm clustered together as they left the grounds, and stayed clustered together as they wandered Hogwarts. They browsed through books at Flourish & Blotts; they looked at astrolabes and philters at Dervish & Bangs; some of them insisted on looking in the window at Glad Rags at the latest in formal robes; and they stocked up on sweets from Honeyduke's and butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks. As good as the food at Hogwarts was, there were some things that the school just didn't serve.  
  
The feast was a wonder. The mood was fun and just spooky enough; the food was rich and plentiful as always; and the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, seemed fully recovered from his encounter with the basilisk and gave a lively retelling of the day he was almost beheaded. Cho and her dorm mates were all tired, full and happy as they walked through the halls of Hogwarts, talking excitedly about the day's events. Cho felt that she'd probably sleep until noon.  
  
Until she saw a knot of students in front of the tapestry. Some Sixth- Years were shouting out every password they'd used this year-and Grimaldi shouted out a few words that had never been used as passwords in Hogwarts. The tapestry stayed shut.  
  
"Let me through please!" The voice of Professor Flitwick carried to the students, even if he was too short to be seen. He finally made his way to the stairs just past the tapestry. "For the time being," he announced, "Ravenclaw House is closed up. Go back to the Great Hall at once. You will be informed of the reason when you get there."  
  
"Five Sickles says they won't tell us the truth," muttered one Second-Year to another.  
  
xxx  
  
That Ravenclaw won his bet; Dumbledore told them only that the castle needed to be searched, and that they would be spending the night in the Great Hall floor on sleeping bags. Only after he left, with the students mingling themselves from House to House, did the story come out: about the painting over Gryffindor's entrance being savagely mutilated-apparently by Sirius Black.  
  
"Load of rubbish, if you ask me," Letitia Groondy sniffed when Padma Patil told her what her sister Parvati had said. "Can you really trust anything Peeves has to say?"  
  
"He was a witness!" Padma insisted.  
  
"The only witness, which means he can say whatever he likes! He probably thinks it's a lark to tell us it was Sirius."  
  
"It's not just Peeves," Roger Davies interrupted. "I was just listening to Oliver Wood going on about it. Filch found the lady in the painting; she's a bit cut up, but she'll live, as it were. Anyway, she says it was Sirius Black too."  
  
Just then, Head Boy Percy Weasley called lights out.  
  
In spite of that, whispered conversations among the students went on for a long time after the Great Hall went dark. Prefects moved among the students to keep things in order, and most of the students behaved themselves; although at one point, some two hours after the lights went out, those who were still awake heard a harsh girl's whisper: "So help me, Krixlow, if you touch me with that thing, I'll Hex it right off of you!" There was some snickering before things quieted down again.  
  
The Hall wasn't dark; some light was cast by the ghosts who passed in and out of the Hall through the walls. They reported to Dumbledore, then sailed back out to inspect some other part of the castle.  
  
Cho awoke once in the middle of the night with a dry throat; no sooner was she awake than a flagon of cold water materialized in front of her. She swiftly drained it all, then lay back down. As she did, the thought crossed her mind:  
  
This is the second time. Ha Li Po Te is sleeping there somewhere, and I'm here with him. Of course, so is everybody else . . .  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 38, where the first Quidditch match of the season is marred by bad weather and unwelcome visitors. 


	38. Quite Unexpected

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
38. Quite Unexpected  
  
"In the year 1619," droned Professor Binns, "two boatsful of Muggles witnessed an international Quidditch match; obviously, it was all quite unexpected."  
  
A thunderclap just outside the window jolted some of the Fourth-Year Ravenclaws awake. Cho Chang didn't really need the thunder; the mere mention of Quidditch was enough to rouse her. Normally, she was just as susceptible as the others to the numbing teaching style of Professor Binns. But the first Quidditch match of the season was fast approaching-only two days away now-and even though Ravenclaw wasn't playing, she was looking forward to Hogwarts' first official match in months.  
  
"The sixteenth of May, 1619, to be precise." Professor Binns' voice went on. The professor-actually the ghost of the original Professor Binns- either didn't notice that Diana Fairweather had fallen fast asleep in spite of the thunderstorm raging outside, or he just didn't care. "Two ships met in the Java Sea, off the coast of Borneo. One was a Spanish galleon, the Loma Caliente, which had just left its port in Sumatra and was returning home. The other was His Majesty's Ship Cotswold, captained by Sir Hubert Sligby, and Sir Hubert must bear the blame for what happened next.  
  
"Sligby was, and still is, the only student of Hogwarts ever to command a ship in the Royal Navy. Note that I said 'student' rather than 'graduate'; Hubert's parents were both Hufflepuff, but he himself was what is commonly called a Squib. Poor lad couldn't turn wine into brandy if you pointed him toward a fire and gave him a shove. But he gamely tried on, as Hufflepuffs are wont to do, until he realized the futility of the thing. Leaving Hogwarts after his second year, he ultimately went into the Royal Navy, where he seemed to have found his level. However, he always remembered his Hogwarts days with great fondness and no ill will at all.  
  
"Sir Hubert drew his ship up alongside the Spanish galleon; the sea was calm that day and the winds were light. As they exchanged messages about sea conditions and the news of the day, Captain Sligby noticed that a few owls were passing between the ships. Now, he knew that there were wizards on the Cotswold; religious hostility was already abroad in England, and quite a few of his classmates found it expedient to leave the country, and joining the Navy was the quickest and cheapest way to accomplish that.  
  
"Once the sun had set and he had posted a watch he felt he could trust, he sent a parrot over to the other ship with a message. It almost didn't get through, the Spanish owls being highly suspicious of the parrot. Still, Sir Hubert found out that the crew of the Loma Caliente was almost half- wizard, many of them having attended Beauxbatons, while others had attended the Yuksekokul Buyu Suleiman, or Suleiman Magic Academy in Ankara in the Ottoman Empire.  
  
"Sir Hubert was so injudicious as to actually note the following in the Captain's log: 'So did we exchange notes of conviviality until the suggest was made me by the mate of the Loma that some Q might be a pleasing diversion for the hands on both vessels. Myself seeing no impediment to such sport, esp. with calm seas and a moon at the full, I did give leave, so anxious was I to watch a proper match after many years absence.'"  
  
Absent? We're all here, aren't we? You're nodding off, Cho scolded herself; watch that!  
  
"All went well at first, with the crew of the Loma Caliente enchanting a breadfruit to use as a Quaffle, and the crow's nests of the respective ships serving as the goals. Play had progressed until the score stood 90 to 40 in favour of the Cotswold. At this point, a Spanish Chaser missed a shot at the goal, and let fly a string of Turkish oaths at the British Keeper, many of which suggested that he was, let us say, on friendly terms with barnyard animals. The Keeper was not amused, drew his wand and tried to Hex the Chaser who uttered the insults. Wands were drawn all around, and only the timely intervention of the mate of the Loma kept the match from devolving into an international incident.  
  
"This did not, however, go unnoticed by the Muggle crew of HMS Cotswold. One such sailor, arising and ascending to the deck, witnessed the quarrel, rushed below and sounded an alarm. He was joined by several companions, who would have torched the wizards of the crew had they not been alerted by the noise. Memory Charms were brought to bear . . ."  
  
Cho wanted to dig her fingernails into her neck, just to drive away the torpor. She felt she might have to do something desperate to drive away the boredom. Another thunderclap outside the classroom saved her the trouble.  
  
Leave it to Professor Binns to make even Quidditch seem dull.  
  
xxx  
  
Quidditch practice for Ravenclaw that evening was shortened. The rain hadn't let up, and looked as if it might carry on through the weekend.  
  
"Glad we don't have to play in that," Erasmus Skiddle said, stretching out in front of the Common Room fire. The team had spelled their clothes dry, and were talking about the upcoming match.  
  
"So's Slytherin, I'll bet. Can you believe their nerve?" Roger complained. "They wait until the last minute to arrange a switch, so Gryffindor's all of a sudden against Hufflepuff."  
  
"Malfoy's arm is still in a sling," noted Jinx Jenkins.  
  
Roger nodded. "And he knows it'd be his arse in a sling if he goes up against Potter. Does anyone here still think there's something wrong with his arm?" Most of the team chuckled at the sugestion. They'd known from the beginning that Malfoy was faking his injury; hadn't Chaser Pablo Molina been nipped by a hippogriff in Professor Hagrid's class, yet showed up for practice later that same day?  
  
"Hey Rog. What's the latest on Hufflepuff?" That was Becksnee, the other Beater.  
  
"Diggory's Captain, and they say he's taken to it like a Snitch to flying. Hufflepuff may give us a run for it this year."  
  
"How can they?" Cho asked incredulously. "You've seen how tall Diggory's gotten."  
  
"Tall, yes, but he can turn his broom on a Knut. He's got a lot of control. Don't underestimate him."  
  
"Well, we'll find out, won't we?" Roger said lazily as he stretched and reached for another butterbeer. He seemed almost bored by the prospect of a Quidditch match.  
  
xxx  
  
When Saturday dawned, hardly anybody at Hogwarts knew it. The storm had only gotten worse. Rain came down in sheets, and lightning crackled through the sky.  
  
There was some talk among some First-Years of whether the match would be postponed, but this was cleared up at once by the older students. Minor inconveniences like fires, floods, blizzards and the odd earthquake weren't worth canceling a Quidditch match. (Last year's blizzard was only an excuse; the match was really canceled because of the basilisk attack the night before.)  
  
So it was that, as the hour of eleven in the morning approached, students rushed from the castle to the stadium at the last possible moment. There was no sense in staying out in the tempest any longer than necessary, and in this weather the notion of "good seats" was a joke. Nobody could really see much of anything.  
  
In weather like this, the students usually tried to show off their magic by finding ways to keep dry. When Cho and her dorm mates arrived at the stadium and found some benches, Libby Foggly performed an Engorge Charm on her umbrella, making it grow big enough to cover all six girls. At least, it covered them for a few minutes, until a strong gust of wind carried it up into the sky.  
  
"Got one worth two of that," Jan Nugginbridge said as she pointed her wand at a blank spot on the bench and said, "Arboretum".  
  
At once a large oak tree appeared, its leaves still green in spite of the season. The girls sheltered themselves under it, but again only for a minute. Jan hadn't allowed for the weight of the tree. When the plank of wood it was resting on gave a loud crack and started to give, the girls jumped clear of the tree and back into the rain. Professor Flitwick, who was sitting with other Ravenclaws nearby, performed the counter-charm and the tree vanished.  
  
"Don't worry, Miss Nugginbridge," he called over the rising wind, "I'm not taking any points or assigning detention. Not yet, anyway; I want to find out from Madam Hooch afterwards if there's any permanent damage. In the meantime, do be careful!"  
  
All of this had happened before the match. Cho simply pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head. This was the first chance she had to use its built-in Billowing Charm, and it worked perfectly, expanding to twice its size and serving as a personal umbrella.  
  
Even dry, though, Cho found it almost impossible to follow the game. The wind and rain were just too much; the rain clouds blocked out more and more of the sun. The thunder was loud enough to drown out Hooch's whistle, and play often continued when it should have stopped.  
  
Cho, as a Seeker, often watched a match by following the play and searching for the Snitch at the same time. Today, though, she didn't even try. The only way to see the Snitch from the stands, she thought, would be if it were to flap up here and poke me in the eye.  
  
Finally, at what seemed like forty minutes into the match, although she had no way of knowing, Cho looked at the pitch as it was briefly illuminated by a flash of lightning. She saw the Golden Snitch! She saw Diggory of Hufflepuff flying madly into the wind toward it.  
  
And she saw Harry Potter. She saw him see the Snitch, turn his broom and rush to get it before Diggory.  
  
Cho was on her feet without realizing it. The rain was letting up a bit, and she could see the two Seekers, no more than a blur, rushing toward what looked to be a collision in mid-field. She wanted to call to Harry, to cheer him on.  
  
But she couldn't speak.  
  
Something tightened her throat, something which gave her the same sickly feeling she'd had on the Hogwarts Express when . . . She looked down, and there they were.  
  
Dementors. Not just one, but dozens of them.  
  
Apart from their appearance on the train and her having to pass them on the Hogsmeade trip, Cho tried to have nothing to do with the dementors. The feelings they recalled in her-feelings of dread and bleakness and despair- were the worst emotions she'd felt in her life. She tried not to even think about them, and she certainly didn't want to relive what she'd felt.  
  
Yet the black robed figures-over a hundred of them, it seemed-clustering on the field were awakening those feelings in the entire stadium. It took all of her will for Cho to shut her eyes against the dementors. But she could still hear their presence; Jan was whimpering, and Raina was chanting something-a spell or perhaps a prayer-in a broken whisper.  
  
Cho didn't know how much time had elapsed when she sensed something change. The atmosphere was lighter-no, something was fighting against the darkness. She opened her eyes in time to see the two Seekers rapidly closing on the Snitch. It was a dead heat, but Harry Potter didn't seem interested. Diggory reached out for the Snitch; Potter didn't even try. One second later, Potter fell sideways off of his broom and toward the muddy field fifty feet below.  
  
Cho was on her feet, the word that was caught in her throat finally forced out: "HARRY!"  
  
A pillar of silver light rose up under Harry, slowing his fall. Dumbledore had taken the field and slowed Harry's fall, although he still ended up hitting the soggy ground faster than was wise. He took just a minute to scold the dementors for coming onto the grounds without permission, emphasizing the point by chasing the dementors out with a spell that cast a silver light-something Cho had never seen before. After that, Dumbledore summoned up a stretcher, placed Harry onto it, and walked with it toward the castle.  
  
Cho could well guess where it was going; the hospital wing. She and Harry had both spent so much time there.  
  
With the game over, the students rushed to get back to the castle. The stadium cleared out in less than five minutes, leaving only the score up on the scoreboard: Hufflepuff 230, Gryffindor 130.  
  
xxx  
  
The Ravenclaw side immediately took over a corner of their Common Room to talk about the game. Except that Cho didn't feel much like talking. She simply curled up into a comfy chair and let the talk swirl around her.  
  
"One thing's certain," Pablo Molina was saying, "even Harry Potter is a mere mortal."  
  
"Don't get too happy," Jinx Jenkins cautioned. "All he did was break his winning streak."  
  
"Broke more than that," chuckled Skiddle. "His Nimbus is a total cock-up; nothing but toothpicks."  
  
"You're sure?" Becksnee asked.  
  
"Flitwick rounded it up himself-what was left, anyway."  
  
"So Potter is broomless, Malfoy is gutless, and Diggory's a complete charlie!"  
  
"He is not!"  
  
It was the first time Cho had spoken since the match, and it was more of a shout. Still curled up in the chair, she looked over at Roger. "He's not a charlie."  
  
"Come on, Cho. He beats Potter to the Snitch, then tries to forfeit his own win!"  
  
"It was a foul. Play should have stopped."  
  
"What foul?!"  
  
"Interference by a non-player. A hundred of them. Didn't you feel it?" Cho didn't wait for an answer but pressed on. "Didn't you feel the whole mood in the stadium change when the dementors came in? Don't you think those things affected the players too? Matches have been canceled for less. Diggory did the right thing. He was just being honourable."  
  
"Well, let's hope you're not that honourable, Cho."  
  
She glared at Roger, who laughed and put his hands up to protect himself from whatever Hex she might throw at him.  
  
Cho simply stared at the fire. "Let's hope those things don't attend the next match."  
  
xxx  
  
continued in part 39, wherein neither the dementors nor Cho attend the next match 


	39. Turnabout is Fair Play

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
39. "Turnabout is Fair Play"  
  
Cho wasn't surprised to hear that Madam Pomfrey insisted on Harry spending the entire weekend in the hospital wing. "Sometimes broken bones are the easy part," she'd told Cho years before; "it's the bruises that can rise up against you." What surprised Cho was the steady stream of visitors Harry had. Mostly it was the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but also his friends since their first year: Granger and Ron Weasley.  
  
But so many others came as well. That wasn't a surprise, since Harry had taken such a dramatic fall literally in front of the entire school. Harry didn't even get privacy during his meals, since one of his friends or mates always brought a plate up to him. There was also a large slab of chocolate by his bed, in case the dementors left any after-effects; most of the chocolate was nibbled at by Harry's visitors.  
  
Cho wanted to visit Harry, too, but she wanted to do it her own way, as she'd done before: in the dead of night, while Harry was sleeping. She couldn't say exactly why it had to be that way, except that the two of them had never been introduced, and doing so now under these circumstances might lead to some awkward questions and worse answers. She would wait, until late Sunday night.  
  
So it was that she walked the halls of Hogwarts after midnight Sunday, hours before breakfast and the return of Harry Potter to classes, wearing her robes over her nightgown. She knew that this was no emergency crisis, as with the basilisk; Pomfrey would be on duty in the hospital wing. If Cho was lucky, Pomfrey would be napping. If she was awake, well, Cho was ready for that too.  
  
She pushed the heavy door open just enough to see through. Pomfrey had set up a writing desk near the door, but she was seated with her back to the door, facing the ward and Harry. She appeared to be writing a scroll. Cho drew her wand out of her robes and pointed it at Pomfrey-a severe breach of the rules.  
  
"Morpheus Temporus," she whispered.  
  
Cho watched as Madam Pomfrey's head slowly sank forward, resting on the table. She'd be out for ten minutes. That would give Cho time. Time to do what? She still wasn't sure about that.  
  
As it was in her Second Year, Harry was the only occupant of the ward. As she walked toward his bed, she could see him tossing fitfully. He must be having a bad dream. Then he started muttering to himself:  
  
"No . . . don't . . . don't kill her . . . mummy . . ."  
  
Cho stopped in her tracks, struck by the realization of what she was doing. She suddenly felt that it was - not obscene, exactly, but indecent; that she now knew something private, something Harry didn't want anyone to know, and would maybe cause him to hate Cho if he found out that she knew it.  
  
She couldn't stay there. She turned, left the hospital wing, and almost ran back to Ravenclaw and her dormitory.  
  
She'd dropped her robes onto her desk and gotten into bed, and was just about to draw the bed curtains when Jan whispered, "Where yeh been, then?"  
  
"I wasn't," Cho whispered back. "I never left. Remember that."  
  
"Suit yerself," Jan yawned and rolled over.  
  
xxx  
  
The school slipped back into its routines on Monday, and so did Cho. Her focus was on Saturday, November 27, the next scheduled Quidditch match. It would finally-FINALLY-mark her official debut as Ravenclaw Seeker.  
  
At first, there was some confusion as to which House they were going to play. They were originally scheduled to play Hufflepuff, but they'd just taken Slytherin's spot in the first game of the year.  
  
"It ought to be Slytherin," Roger Davies insisted to Madam Hooch in her office. It was the Friday after Harry's fall, two weeks before Ravenclaw's match. "Otherwise, you have Hufflepuff playing twice in three weeks!"  
  
"Yes, and don't think that they don't know it. Unfortunately, when the, er, mishap with Malfoy and the hippogriff happened, Diggory consented to the arrangement, so that Slytherin could play two matches close together later in the year. You're the only one who thinks this is a problem, Mister Davies."  
  
"Well, it is, but, oh, never mind." Davies very impolitely stormed out of her office and joined the rest of the team on the field.  
  
"Rog, what's the problem?" Cho asked.  
  
"We're playing Hufflepuff!"  
  
"Tell me again why this is a problem," Jinx smiled. "I mean, they just came off a rough match."  
  
"That's what worries me. They beat Gryffindor and Harry Potter, and they'll be taking that into the game with them. In better weather, at that. I wish we were against Slytherin; I'm sure they still remember the summer."  
  
"D'you think we've forgotten how to play?" Skiddle could hardly believe it. "Y'know, you still have a lot of Mackie in you. He used to think too much, and that got him in knots all the time."  
  
"Besides," Becksnee added, "we're supposed to have this brilliant Seeker. Oh heck, where has she gone? Anybody seen her?" He made a great show of looking high and low.  
  
Cho tugged the sleeve of Roger's robes. "I'm right here, you know."  
  
That seemed to set Roger's worst fears to rest. "Right! Let's get this practice started."  
  
xxx  
  
It would be an understatement to say that Cho woke up on Friday the 26th in high spirits. She was like a child on Christmas Eve. Unable to pay attention in class, she was constantly looking out the windows, checking the weather, as if it might change in the next few minutes. She was working out plays on paper rather than paying attention in class. She was thinking about Quidditch, and Hufflepuff, and Quidditch, and her Comet Two Sixty, and Quidditch.  
  
Which is why she didn't think about the phantom step on the staircase in the South Wing.  
  
She was just coming down from a Dark Arts class with Professor Lupin when she planted a step on a solid-looking step that actually wasn't there. She fell forward, her kneecap hitting the edge of the next step with a sickening crack. Cho's book bag went flying; papers scattered everywhere. The Fat Friar passed through the wall, took one look, said "Oh dear me!", and vanished back into the wall again.  
  
Cho hoped he'd gone to fetch Madam Pomfrey. The pain in her knee felt worse than her broken bones two years before. She tried to pull herself up and out of the gap, but the slightest move made her leg throb unbearably. It was all she could do not to cry out from the pain.  
  
"What's all this, then?"  
  
It was Roger, on his way up to Arithmancy. He looked around at the students running up and down the stairs around Cho. "Has anyone told a teacher?" he demanded; nobody stopped to answer.  
  
"I think the Fat Friar went to tell Madam Pomfrey," Cho managed to say. She was trying not to talk at all.  
  
"Can't wait for that lot!" He squatted down in front of Cho. "Put your arms around my neck."  
  
"What??"  
  
"Just hang on!" She wrapped her arms around his neck and, as he stood up, he pulled her free of the hole in the staircase.  
  
"Mister Davies!" Madam Pomfrey had just arrived at the foot of the stairs. She created a stretcher, set it to hovering in midair, then caused Cho to float away from Roger and onto the stretcher. "In the future, Mister Davies," Pomfrey scolded, "kindly leave these things to trained professionals. You might have done Miss Chang more harm than good. Off to class now."  
  
"No! That is, I want to make sure she's all right."  
  
"Well, I can tell you now that she isn't all right. She'll probably be in the wing for a couple of days."  
  
"I can't!" Cho almost jumped off of the stretcher. "The game!"  
  
"Someone else will have to play it, and that's that. You can see her later on, Mister Davies; I'll send word to Professor Flitwick." With that, she guided the floating stretcher to the hospital wing.  
  
When they got to the wing and Pomfrey transferred Cho to a bed and drew her robes above her knees, they both saw that the worst had happened: the kneecaphad broken and was threatening to break through the skin. This was bad enough, but the skin over the knee was dark and swollen to the size of a Bludger.  
  
Pomfrey repaired the kneecap and gave Cho a potion for the pain. "This is the part you're going to hate hearing, but it all comes down to bed-rest. You have to be off your feet for two days."  
  
"But the match!"  
  
"Will go on without you; we both know that. I have to tell Professor Flitwick what happened." Pomfrey went back to her office just off of the ward.  
  
Cho waited, miserable, until she was alone. Then she pulled the pillow from under her head and pushed it over her face. "DAMN!" she shouted into the pillow; "DAMN! DAMN! DAMN!" The rest was tears as she sobbed into the down-stuffed pillow.  
  
xxx  
  
The entire Ravenclaw team came to see her at dinnertime. By then the lump in her knee had almost doubled in size.  
  
Roger looked as if he wanted to say several things at once. But as he looked at the knee, his first words were, "Are you sure you can't fly with that?"  
  
"We both know I can't," Cho sighed, "and even if I could, the pain isn't worth it. So what'll you do tomorrow?"  
  
None of the players seemed to have any idea, until Jinx said, "Skiddle, you think you could play Seeker?"  
  
"In a pinch, but who'd be the third Chaser?"  
  
Jinx thought for a minute. "Caporeale. He's the best of the reserves, and it's just for the one game."  
  
Everyone looked at Roger, who nodded. "Right; it's all we can do, damn it. We're just going to have to hit them early and hard; have the Chasers run up the score, and hope Skiddle sees the Snitch before Diggory."  
  
"Jinx and I will gang up on the Keeper," Becksnee added. "Rattle him early enough and it'll be easier."  
  
"That's it, then. Tell Caporeale we'll need him in the morning. You lot get down to dinner now."  
  
Roger was actually dismissing the rest of the team! Some of them exchanged smirks. "See you later, Cho," Jinx said as the others left the hospital wing.  
  
Even after the others had left and they were alone in the ward, Roger seemed to have trouble finding words. "I'm really sorry this happened," he started.  
  
Cho cut him off. "I'm sorry, Roger, but right now, misery does not love company. Please leave me alone."  
  
"Oh. Er, right." Hesitently, with several backward glances, Roger left the wing, leaving Cho more alone than ever.  
  
xxx  
  
The girls in her dorm came by after dinner; the story was the talk of the Ravenclaw table.  
  
"Do you want me to be here tomorrow morning?" Raina asked. "When everyone's away."  
  
"When everyone's watching Quidditch, you mean. Thank you, Raina, that's so sweet, but you shouldn't miss the match on my account. Just come by after and let me know what happened."  
  
The others promised to bring food, tea, books, scrolls, changes of clothes- they offered to bring Cho anything and everything until she burst out laughing for the first time since the accident. "I'm not moving in here, you know; I'll be gone in a day or two. I don't even know what I'll miss yet, but I'll let you know. Oh, there's one thing; just a quill and a scroll. I have to let my parents know."  
  
By the time Cho finished her letter, it was time to turn out the lights. Nurse Pomfrey promised to send Quan Yin home with it and went up to the Owlery as Cho closed her eyes.  
  
xxx  
  
House-elves are the living embodiment of being generous to a fault. Once it's understood that your needs are their responsibility, there's nothing they won't do. The cooking elves at Hogwarts kept the tables of the Great Hall filled with plates and bowls and pitchers full of fine food and drink.  
  
But all the food was monitored by Professors Pomfrey and Sprout, who knew that growing witches and wizards had certain nutritional needs. They provided a sense of proportion where house-elves have none. If the kitchen elves were left to their own devices, every meal would be a ten-course banquet with too many sweets, and the wizarding world might take after Dudley Dursley.  
  
Elves supplied food to the hospital wing, but Madam Pomfrey kept her own tight controls over it. On top of nutrition, she had to worry about possible potion interactions, and so she frowned on students sneaking food into the wing. The chocolate by Harry's bed a few weeks ago was understood to be "for medicinal purposes only".  
  
When Cho woke up that Saturday morning, it was to the smell of porridge, hot scones and honey. She tried very hard to ignore it all. She just looked glumly out the nearest window, but all she could see was the chilly autumn sky.  
  
"You have to have something you know," Madam Pomfrey said as she approached the bed. "Otherwise, I won't let you out."  
  
"What's the point?" Cho said. "I'll be in here when it's eleven, and everybody else will be at the match. You couldn't let me out for that, could you?"  
  
"Of course not, because I've read Eunice Murray, too. If I let you out as a spectator, you'd probably try some foolish trick to get in the game. But there are other games this year, you know, and I'm sure you'll be tickety- boo for the next one. But you have to eat."  
  
Cho looked at the food beside her. "I don't suppose you could make a change?"  
  
Madam Pomfrey looked dubious. "Not until I know what it is."  
  
"Rice. Just a bowl of rice."  
  
"I suppose you want some of that what-do-ye-call-it, soy sauce?"  
  
"No. Just a pinch of salt on top."  
  
The nurse smiled. "This is your comfort food, then?" Cho nodded. "Well, that's all right." Pomfey waved her wand, and the tray vanished. In its place was a bowl full of steaming white rice."  
  
"I'll leave you to it," she said as she went to her office.  
  
Cho waited until she had gone, then took her own wand (which she had asked Jan to smuggle in the night before, just in case) from under her pillow, and Transfigured the fork into a pair of carved ivory chopsticks. She picked up the bowl and practically inhaled the rice. She lost herself in the warmth of the bowl in her hand, the firmness of the rice, its subtle taste. It was food from home, which she hadn't tasted at Hogwarts.  
  
A few minutes later, her stomach pleasantly full but still consumed by disappoitment, she was surprised to see Madam Pomfrey approach her bed. "I know you'd feel awful being here all alone during the game, trying to hear the shouts and everything. So I'll make things a bit easier for you before I go to the stadium myself."  
  
"Easier? How?"  
  
Pomfrey drew her wand. "Just remember, Miss Chang," she smiled, "that turnabout is fair play. Morpheus Temporus."  
  
Cho couldn't even keep her eyes open long enough to say a word of protest.  
  
xxx  
  
As Cho came to, she realized that she could hear the mad clatter of boots along the stone corridors. It was loud and getting louder.  
  
The door burst open; it was the Ravenclaw team.  
  
Cho didn't have to have been sorted into Ravenclaw to see what had happened; the team was beaming.  
  
"I guess it went well, then," she said, still a bit groggy.  
  
"And why not?" Roger couldn't even sit on one of the beds; he was pacing, almost strutting, in front of Cho's bed. "We had a great plan, and it worked."  
  
"What Captain High-and-Mighty means," Jinx quickly added, "is it worked well, considering you weren't there."  
  
"We did just what we set out to do," Roger gloated. "Got fifty points up in the first five minutes, a hundred up in the first twenty. Once we were one hundred fifty in the lead, we could coast. Diggory couldn't catch the Snitch then; he'd end the game with his team short. Then it was just stringing Hufflepuff along until Skiddle had a chance at it."  
  
Skiddle stepped through the players clustered around the side of the bed. "Do me and the House a favour, Cho, and please don't break anything else. I thought I could cover for you, but, well, if they hadn't built up that lead, I'd still be out there chasing that damned thing. You make it look so easy, you know that?"  
  
Cho didn't know what to say to that. Fortunately, she was interrupted by Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"Nobody said you could come in! Get out, the lot of you!" She practically shoved the others out of the wing.  
  
She turned back to Cho. "Can't blame them, really; it was a good match. The Headmaster was saying . . ." She stopped. "Are you in pain, Cho? Is anything wrong?"  
  
Cho had been biting her lip to keep from crying after the compliment Skiddle had paid her. "No, ma'am," she smiled through her tears, "nothing's wrong."  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 40, wherein Cho has a meeting in the corridor and reads a letter in Hogsmeade 


	40. The Glow

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
40. The Glow  
  
Cho woke with the sunrise on Sunday. A quick look at her knee showed that Madam Pomfrey had put everything right; it seemed all right, anyway. Not wanting to wait for Pomfrey to show up, Cho got out of bed and stood, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. No pain, no weakness. She was just changing back into her school robes when Pomfrey came in.  
  
"This is what I get for lingering over tea," she sighed. "You know you can't leave until I clear it."  
  
"Sorry, ma'am, but I feel just fine and I didn't know when you'd be by. Besides, I suppose I can sometimes be . . ."  
  
"Headstrong," Pomfrey finished the sentence. "I know that too well. Most young people are just naturally headstrong, and Quidditch players even moreso. You, Miss Chang, are stellar."  
  
"My mother insists it's because I was born in a Year of the Horse."  
  
"Well, my Divination marks were never all that wonderful, so I don't know about that. But please look after yourself. The more injuries like this you get, the harder they are to mend."  
  
Cho started to protest that being injured wasn't her idea, but Pomfrey held up her hand for silence. "Get along, now."  
  
Making sure that her wand was in the pocket of her robes, Cho walked out of the hospital wing-  
  
and, a few steps later, came face to face with Cedric Diggory.  
  
"Good," he smiled, "you're out of there."  
  
"Were you looking for me?" Cho asked, part curious and part annoyed.  
  
"I didn't know that you were in there until just before the match yesterday. We had some plays ready for you as Seeker, and didn't get to use them."  
  
"I'm sorry, but I don't understand what you're on about."  
  
"I missed you. I mean, I missed playing against you. I really was looking forward to it."  
  
Cho didn't know how to feel about Cedric, except that she smiled and said, "I think we both were looking forward to it."  
  
"Well, maybe later; there's still the Cup."  
  
Cho walked quickly past him, looking back over her shoulder just long enough to say, "And you'll have to work for it!" As soon as she was out of sight of Cedric, she broke into a run, not stopping until she was almost at the Great Hall. She stopped and leaned against the wall.  
  
What was THAT all about? she wondered  
  
xxx  
  
Classes hardly seemed important in these last weeks before the Christmas holidays. Nothing seemed important; not even the fact that Sirius Black had not been captured, but was believed to be somewhere near Hogsmeade.  
  
Cho was reminded of this when she lined up with many other students to book seats on the Hogwarts Express. The dementors weren't on the platform, but they were in the road just past the station, visible from the ticket window, and Cho couldn't help feeling queasy as she bought her ticket, then moved on to the last Hogsmeade visit before the holidays. Even the light snow that was falling seemed to avoid the dementors; Cho had the notion in passing the dementors that there wasn't enough warmth or humanity left in any of them to melt a single flake.  
  
"Lookit this!" It was Vincent Krixlow, pointing to a notice posted on the side of the station by the Ministry of Magic. The notice warned that the dementors would patrol the streets of Hogsmeade after dark indefinitely until Sirius Black was recaptured. Krixlow seemed especially amused by the way the notice ended, as he read it aloud: "Complete your shopping well before nightfall. Merry Christmas!"  
  
"Nice touch, that; Merry Christmas. We're going to set ghastly monsters all over town; Happy New Year!"  
  
"Well, wot were they s'posed to do?" Jan challenged him.  
  
"Get those things back to Azkaban. They're doing more harm than good here."  
  
"An' wot about Sirius Black?"  
  
"Look, nobody's seen so much as a puff of smoke from the man since Halloween. I'll bet it was Peeves carved up the painting . . ."  
  
"You know poltergeists can't swing a knife," Diana Fairweather reminded him.  
  
" . . . or some Seventh-Year gone loony from too much studying."  
  
"Which will never afflict you, I'm sure," Letitia Groondy grinned. "Let's get going!"  
  
Hogsmeade really wasn't the best place for someone like Cho to do much Christmas shopping; not when her parents had a shoppe in Diagon Alley, and didn't want for magical items. Still, she left the other Ravenclaws and set out on her own.  
  
First she went to the local Flourish & Blotts, but didn't see anything interesting. There was no point in going to Honeyduke's; her parents were too old and too reserved for anything from Zonko's.  
  
At Gladrags, however, which had just gotten in a shipment of winter cloaks with weatherproof hoods, she found a pair of earrings for her mother- delicately wrought silver in the design of a lotus blossom. Her mother only had a few occasions to wear anything that fine, but she did still have to go to formal wizarding events, and sometimes even out among the Muggles. At Dervish and Banges, she finally settled on one of several astrolabes for her father.  
  
She now had very little of the money she'd budgeted for this visit, and little time as well; with the days getting shorter and shorter, the notice not to be in Hogsmeade after dark took on greater weight. Still, the snow was starting to fall a bit harder, and this helped Cho to decide that she could spend her last Sickles on a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.  
  
The crowds in the pub had thinned out as the sun sank lower; Cho ordered a tankard of warm butterbeer at the bar and had no trouble finding a table in the rear where she set her drinks and purchases. She waved to Professor Flitwick who seemed to be deep in conversation with Professors McGonagall and Hagrid, and also with (if Cho could trust her memory) the Minister of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge. She'd seen his picture a few times in the Daily Prophet, but she hardly thought he'd show up in a place like this. Besides, he seemed to want not to be recognized by too many people, and kept his face averted from the rest of the room.  
  
Cho just made a mental note of it, took a sip from her tankard and reached into the pocket of her robes. Just as breakfast had been ending, Quan Yin had flown in with a scroll from home. She put it in her pocket unread, knowing that she'd probably have time to read it that afternoon.  
  
It was a typical letter from her mother: terse and businesslike, as if she were addressing a client rather than her child:  
  
"Your father will meet you at the platform on the 19th. Please do not make any plans for this summer until you are home and have checked with us. I should also tell you that we are having company for Christmas. The Ng family will be coming down from Liverpool. They will be bringing their son Tan, who is in his Seventh Year at Tara's Hall in Ireland, and will be going to University in the fall. It would be simple politeness for you to have a gift ready for him. Your mother"  
  
Cho threw down the scroll and pounded the table with her fist.  
  
"'Ere, wot did that table ever do teh you, then?" Jan didn't stand on ceremony and sat across from Cho, even though Cho didn't feel at all like having company.  
  
Jan glanced at the scroll; over the years, she'd come to understand a few things about her roommate. "Letter from home, eh?"  
  
Cho took a sip of her butterbeer, to give her time to cool down and organize her thoughts. "I will never understand her!"  
  
"They're not on about Quidditch agin, are they?"  
  
"Oh, it's gotten better than that. She's bringing some old friends of the family in for the holidays, and, oh, by the way, there's a nice Seventh- Year Chinese wizard coming to chat you up. She absolutely makes me boil."  
  
"So this ain't about just the holidays, then."  
  
"I don't know why she's in such a rush to marry me off! I'm not even interested in that right now!" She took another drink, and, as she was setting her mug down, heard a chair scrape behind her. She turned to see someone moving very quickly toward the door. He was wearing a rather bulky cloak, but from the back it looked like-  
  
"Oh, no." Cho looked at Jan. "That wasn't Roger, was it?" Jan nodded. "Perfect. What can he be thinking of me now?"  
  
"Wot do yeh want him teh think o' yer?"  
  
"Well, well not THAT! I mean, after all he said about how I shouldn't be interested in boys over Quidditch . . ."  
  
"How long ago was that?"  
  
"A few years, but . . ."  
  
"Relax, then." Jan drank some of her own butterbeer, although she had ordered a cold bottle rather than a hot mug. "Yeh ain't interested in nobody anyway."  
  
"How would you know?"  
  
"I kin see it."  
  
"I'm sure. Rosy cheeks, fluttering eyes . . ."  
  
"Not that rubbish. I can see it! All the women o' me family are able to. It's how we made a livin' tellin' fortunes years ago. I can't describe it exactly; I just call it The Glow. And, Cho Chang, you ain't Glowin'."  
  
Cho absorbed this for a minute. "You never talked about this before."  
  
"Wasn't sure I had it before. It's somethin' that comes with time. Just noticed a few weeks ago meself."  
  
Cho suddenly felt rather nervous about this bit of news. "So you can look at someone and tell if they're . . ."  
  
"Yeh. Saw Penny Clearwater in the Great Hall this mornin', an' she fair lit up the place."  
  
"And you don't think people can keep this hidden from you?"  
  
"Mos' people don' even try ter hide The Glow."  
  
"Even if they wanted to?"  
  
Now Jan stopped and thought. She took several sips without speaking. When she spoke, she chose her words very cautiously. "I seen these two girls- don' know their names, an' I wouldn' name 'em if I did. They had a kind of Glow about 'em, but I never seen 'em with anyone but each other."  
  
"You really think they're . . ."  
  
"Well, tha's a good reason to try to hide The Glow, innit? It don' make me feel comfortable, sharin' a secret like than when I don' even wants ter."  
  
"Jan, promise you'll tell me if I start Glowing?"  
  
Jan roared with laughter. "Believe me, Cho, if The Glow gets yer, ye'll be the first teh know!" She looked out the window. "Gettin' dark; we'd better get back."  
  
Cho gathered up her bundles, pulled up her hood, and walked out into the snow.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 41, wherein Cho goes home for the holidays. 


	41. Looking to the Future

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
41. Looking to the Future  
  
Cho was of two minds on the Hogwarts Express back to London. She was always of two minds about her mother; she was even of two minds about being of two minds.  
  
She sat at a seat by the window, watching the white landscape speed by and thankful that there were no dementors on the train; bad enough having to pass under the gaze of them-dozens of them-just to get on board. It was a long trip, though, and, while she tried not to talk to anyone about anything, she gave in before the second hour was over and chatted with the others in her compartment-mostly girls from her dormitory. They talked about what presents they were giving for Christmas, and what they hoped to get. They talked about invitations to holiday parties-some of them even thrown by Muggles who had no idea about their guests. They talked about the over-the-holiday schoolwork-murderous with Snape, difficult with McGonagall, just as difficult but more fun with Flitwick, and incomprehensible with Trelawny.  
  
If she kept this up, Cho would never have to say what was really on her mind: that she didn't like the way her mother treated her-as if she had no sense at all. Then she'd dislike herself for disliking her mother. Why do parents put you through that? she wondered as she bit into a pumpkin tart she'd bought off the trolley. I swear I won't make my daughter feel that way about me when I'm . . . Hold on! I'm getting a bit ahead of myself; don't even have a boyfriend yet. Don't know as I'd want one either, just now.  
  
Yet as she closed her eyes, inhaling the cinnamon and spices of the tart, she imagined what it might be like to be "with" someone, to have the whole school know it and not care as the two of you walked through the corridors holding hands . . .  
  
xxx  
  
Red has been the most important colour in China since long before there was a Hogwarts. When she stepped through the barrier into King's Cross, she was greeted by her father holding two carrier-bags full of presents wrapped in vivid red paper.  
  
On Chinese New Year, the custom is to give gifts of money in red envelopes. The Changs adapted the practice for Christmas by wrapping all their gifts in red paper. As a child, Cho loved the contrast, the green tree seeming to float on a sea of fire.  
  
When she woke up Christmas morning, she rushed down the steps from her room to the parlour where the tree was. There it stood, as it had for years, although the sea of fire seemed a bit smaller than she remembered. Chairman Miao was under the tree as well, rubbing his face along the trunk. He was well up in years now, and wasn't the kitten that used to play with the old red wrapping paper and pounce on the ornaments. In fact, he'd caused quite a bit of havoc every Christmas until Cho's parents Charmed the tree to keep him off. Still, they were all of a piece for Cho: the evergreen tree, the sea of fire, and Chairman Miao. Take any one away, and it wasn't really Christmas.  
  
Cho looked at the labels on the presents, and found that her gifts consisted of four red envelopes. Annoyed but curious, she waited until her parents awoke. They had breakfast together, during which James and Lotus asked Cho about the dementors and life at Hogwarts since Black's apparent arrival there. Cho knew only that Black had escaped from Azkaban and was somehow linked to Harry Potter, so breakfast lasted an extra hour as her parents told her the story of the onetime friend of the Potters who'd betrayed them to the Dark Lord, then gone on a murderous rampage, only to be locked in prison twelve years ago.  
  
Cho didn't dare tell them of the visit to the hospital wing and what she'd heard of Harry's nightmare, but now she knew even more of what it was all about, and the price he'd had to pay for defeating the Dark Lord. Without being aware of it, she almost shed a tear for Harry, but she knew her parents would ask a hundred questions she couldn't answer. She checked herself and turned to the presents.  
  
While her parents wore dressing gowns and sat on the parlour sofa, Cho, still in her pajamas, sat cross-legged on the floor next to the tree. If there had been anyone else in the house, or if it had been any day other than Christmas, she surely would have gotten a long, stern lecture along with her presents. Since it was Christmas, they let it pass.  
  
First, Cho's mother opened her earrings, and seemed to be quite taken by them. As she modeled them for her husband, Cho took a bit of gold ribbon and decorated Chairman Miao's collar. Her father admired the astrolabe and took it to his study. Her parents exchanged a couple of small gifts: a new wallet with a high-security anti-theft spell for him, and for her a bottle of her favorite perfume, "Brangaena". Many had tried to copy its formula and sell a cheaper version; all had failed.  
  
Mister Chang motioned for Cho to open her envelopes, which she now saw were numbered. The first contained merely a page from the Dervish and Banges catalogue:  
  
"Rough It In Style with The GRENDEL Our Most Popular Tent Two bedrooms Two bath Full kitchen Functioning fireplace (extra fee for Floo access) Twelve square feet exterior 1,000 square feet interior"  
  
This was odd. The last time the family had anything to do with a Dervish and Banges tent was when Cho was in kindergarten. A group of Chinese wizards had gotten together for a charabanc tour from Cornwall to Dover. Cho's parents had brought the tent for comfort, but Cho decided she's rather sleep on the bus.  
  
Envelope number two was a timetable for a Portkey. Most of the time, one never bothered; Portkeys were Spelled so as to send the person who touches it to one precise location. But more and more Portkeys began sending wizards to the same place and time. After a couple of highly dramatic splinches, the Department of Magical Transportation stepped in to regularize the trips. This schedule was for a Portkey leaving the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley in August; the destination had been blacked out.  
  
In the third envelope was a map of Yorkshire, with a circle drawn in the middle of a stretch of completely barren moors. Were her parents proposing to spend a summer camping in the middle of the wilderness? At least the charabanc took a coast road, and there was something to see. This was nothing; this was . . .  
  
The fourth envelope, then. It had better explain everything.  
  
She opened the fourth red envelope, no different in size from the other three. As she lifted the flap, though, three pieces of parchment floated out of the envelope, grew in size to become bigger than the envelope, hung steady in the air, then settled down in front of each person in the room. Cho read the top line of the parchment-  
  
FINALS OF THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP  
  
--and threw herself at the sofa, trying to hug both parents at once.  
  
xxx  
  
New Year's Eve was as awkward for Cho as Christmas Day was joyous. The Ng family arrived at the Chang shoppe just at sunset, when Cho was closing. Her mother had been upstairs cooking most of the day, leaving the shop to Cho. Now, she was stuck behind the counter as the guests walked through the store and upstairs, leaving Cho alone to lock up, sweep up, then make herself presentable for company.  
  
When she'd let the guests in she kept her face averted. She didn't want them to see her cheeks burning with embarrassment, and, although her mother had been saying for days that Cho needed to cut a dash at the party that evening, Cho didn't want their first impression of her to be "the girl in the shop". Even as she was washing up and brushing out her hair and slipping into a black velvet ankle-length cheongsam, she was cursing her mother under her breath for trying to humiliate her.  
  
Maybe she wants to prove I'm a hard worker. If THAT'S all he wants in a wife, why doesn't he marry a house-elf?! I wish I'd brought my Quidditch robes; THAT'S who I am, and they'd all better get used to it!  
  
Cho took a few deep breaths before leaving her room. By the time she had descended to the parlour, her face was a pretty, emotionless mask. She bowed to the guests, sat on the sofa next to her mother, and (she couldn't help it) took the occasional glance at the young man they'd brought for her to meet.  
  
Tan Ng looked every inch the Seventh Year. His hair just long enough to be "modern", his features hard and precise as a starchart, and his body (as far as Cho could tell, under his bright green school robes) thin and taut. I suppose he's a good enough catch, Cho thought, but, as she looked at him and looked at him, she realized the truth: she felt nothing about him. Absolutely nothing. Factor out the dislike of her mother trying to arrange things, and Cho realized that Tan was a stranger; just some guy.  
  
The conversation had moved on to Quidditch; the Ngs and the Changs would be in adjacent tents for the World Cup. Mr. Ng had just turned to his son; "Do you have any thoughts on the Cup?"  
  
"No doubt about it," he said, in a brogue that his voice had picked up after seven years in an Irish wizarding school, "Ireland's going all the way this year."  
  
Inwardly Cho smiled. She had her mother now.  
  
xxx  
  
She was all smiles two days later, as the Hogwarts Express returned the students to school. She was talking about the dinner party to her dorm mates.  
  
"Of course, mother still hates that I'm a Seeker; she never misses a chance to insult me over it. I guess it's all right to be a spectator up in the stands, but Heaven forbid her daughter should ever play. Anyway, I knew what I could do to stop this before it started.  
  
"I turned to him and said, 'What makes you think Puddlemere United won't knock Ireland out?' Well, then he was off. He started to go on about the European teams, and about the players on the Irish side, especially their Seeker, Moran. It was an hour before anyone could talk about anything else!"  
  
Cho leaned back in her seat and took a drink from a bottle of butterbeer. "Once we all saw he was mad for Quidditch, all I had to do was wait. We had a ten-course dinner, which seems like a lot, but the courses are not too large; besides, that's tradition for the New Year. Anyway, between courses, I said, 'Did you know that I'm a Seeker at Hogwarts?'  
  
"The first words out of his mouth were, 'Good for you.' Right there, my mother knew she'd made a mistake; she wasn't about to let me get engaged to him! Of course, she gave me a right twisting all the next day, accusing me of trying to sabotage the whole dinner party. But is it my fault that half the wizarding world is Quidditch-mad?"  
  
"Lucky for you he was in the right half," Libby Foggly said as she drained the last of her butterbeer. "Don't know about all of you but I'm still peckish. Who wants to come with me to hunt down the cart?"  
  
Almost all of them chose to go. Cho stayed in her seat, and was momentarily alone in the compartment-until Roger Davies stepped in and closed the door.  
  
"Hullo, Cho."  
  
"Happy New Year, Roger."  
  
"Well, we're, uh, are you ready for the fifteenth?"  
  
"I'm dying for it, Rog. Slytherin won't know what hit them."  
  
"Yes, of course. Well, that is, Cho, can I ask you something?"  
  
"Rog, this isn't like you. What is it?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The stammering, the confusion. What's wrong?"  
  
"Wrong? Nothing! It's just, well, next year's my last, and with any luck I'll get on a professional team, and who knows if I'll see you after I leave . . ."  
  
"Well, of course, I could end up in the pros myself, couldn't ? Maybe even on the same team."  
  
"Yeah, well, that would be . . ."  
  
Cho didn't give him a chance to say anything else. "And we could also send owls, but it's much too early to think about keeping in touch, isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah, guess you're right."  
  
Roger suddenly stood up, left the compartment and hurriedly closed the door. Cho inside the compartment had the same thought as Roger in the corridor:  
  
"That did not go well at all."  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 42, wherein Cho writes home about the Quidditch match 


	42. High Spirits

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
42. High Spirits  
  
"15 January 1994  
  
Dear Mummy and Daddy,  
  
I'm writing on a Saturday from my second home at Hogwarts-the hospital wing. First of all, I assure you that I feel fine, nothing got broken this time, and I'll be back in Ravenclaw House by tonight. And what happened to me wasn't my fault at all. But I've missed yet another Quidditch match! You're probably very pleased, mummy, but I feel that, if I don't keep my hands occupied by writing this letter, I'll only end up throwing something through the window!  
  
To begin at the beginning, then-  
  
Whatever holiday atmosphere we wanted to bring back with us to Hogwarts after the holidays was literally swallowed up when we got to Hogsmeade. Once again, we had to leave the train and return to the castle under the dementors' awful gaze. (Now that I think of it, I don't even know that they have eyes-I've never seen them, at any rate-so speaking of their "gaze" may be totally off the mark.)  
  
Those of us in Ravenclaw House know that this first month back is crucial for us if we want to win the Quidditch Cup and perhaps the House Cup. Today's match is the long-delayed match against Slytherin House; you've read my letters and heard me speak about them, so I'll say no more-except to say that the fact they're still in contention today is only owing to their Seeker playing up a nip on the arm he got from a hippogriff last year. Honestly, he poured it on so thick and so fast that Slytherin didn't have to play at all the past four months. They could just sit back, practice, and probably spy on the rest of us.  
  
But about the wardrobe . . .  
  
The weather has been relatively kind to us, and our own practice sessions had gone well. Roger was confident that we could knock Slytherin decisively out of the running with our first game. It would give Ravenclaw its second win of the year, and all but sew up the Cup for us, since Gryffindor lost so spectacularly to us last autumn. But then, you've heard me on that subject too . . .  
  
So it was with no pressure and no worries that I went into Charms class on Friday. It's a favourite course of mine, and not just because Professor Flitwick is also Head of Ravenclaw. He has a very sweet and even temper and seems to like everyone. The most cross I've ever seen him was last year when Gilderoy Lockhart tried to start up a Dueling Club here-like everything else Lockhart tried here, it was a disaster.  
  
The subject this day was Summoning Spells. We found ourselves in a classroom full of very large pouffes and pillows. The idea was to Summon something substantial, but which wouldn't hurt itself or anything else if it went astray. Of course, as you can imagine, kids will be kids, and soon pouffes were flying all over the room, and gradually, book-bags and other things started flying too. Once Professor Flitwick took his first trip across the room (the first of several!), it became a free-for-all, but nobody minded in the least, least of all Professor Flitwick. The whole thing was like a snowball fight; it was all good fun, and we all landed on the cushions.  
  
Most of us, at any rate.  
  
At one point, a couple of the boys from my class decided to Summon me across the room. I didn't mind, but then one of the girls fought back by Summoning one of the boys who Summoned me. In short, we were headed for a collision. He put his arms out and shoved me to the side. He shoved a bit too hard, because I went headfirst into a wardrobe door.  
  
And that was the last thing I remembered until I woke up a little while ago. I hadn't any idea what time it was, but I certainly recognized the hospital wing. I looked over at Madam Pomfrey, who seemed surprised that I was trying to get up out of the bed.  
  
"Please stay still, Miss Chang! You've had a concussion and been unconscious. You mustn't get up yet!"  
  
To tell the truth, I did feel a bit unsteady on my feet, so I fell back onto the bed. I managed to ask, "How long have I been out?"  
  
"Not long enough, from the looks of it," Madam Pomfrey answered back. "You'll need a bit more rest, I think."  
  
"I meant, how many minutes?"  
  
"Minutes? Child, you were brought in here yesterday!"  
  
I couldn't believe it; that meant that it was Saturday, with the Quidditch match at eleven! The clock in the ward said 10:35, so I knew that-once again-it was all up for me playing Seeker.  
  
None of the team was there, but they'd probably come by while I was unconscious. Now they were getting ready for the match, while I couldn't.  
  
Funnily enough, I wasn't upset about it this time. I realized that this was a freak accident, something that could have happened to anyone. So I asked Madam Pomfrey, as she was going to watch the match, for a scroll and a quill. I'm writing you to pass the time, and not to feel lonely or downhearted about everything. That can happen so easily when you're all alone in the hospital wing, and not even the ghosts come by to keep you company.  
  
I'll send this off now, and tell you later if we won or not.  
  
Best wishes to all  
  
Cho"  
  
Madam Pomfrey had left a window open at the far end of the ward, and Quan Yin had been waiting on the sill for the past few minutes. As soon as Cho started rolling up the scroll, the owl glided over to her bedside. She stroked the bird's feathers a few times before fastening the letter to her leg.  
  
Just as the owl went back out the window, Roger stuck his head in from the hall. "Have a minute?"  
  
The question "How did we do?" was already out of Cho's mouth when she realized: I know how we did, and it didn't go too well. Roger was there alone, after all, and his mood was definitely subdued.  
  
"Well, it could have been worse. 190 to 180, but that means that, if we take Gryffindor next month, we'll have another shot at the Cup."  
  
"Details, Roger; give me details!"  
  
"Same old Slytherin, basically. They set out to get the Seeker, any way they could. The Chasers were hitting Bludgers at him! Jinx was pretty shy by the end, but we rolled up a pretty good score and kept them down to nearly nothing. In the end, Jenkins and Malfoy were clawing for the Snitch like a couple of cats after a mouse, and then Slytherin gets one in the goal just before Malfoy takes the Snitch."  
  
"Sounds exciting at the end, then."  
  
"MISS CHANG, IT WAS A DEAD BRAWL!!"  
  
Madam Hooch! She was standing at the door to the wing, still in her referee's robes, and angrier than Cho had ever seen her. The teacher strode briskly toward Cho's bed.  
  
"I know you couldn't have prevented this, so I'm not going to tell you that. But your House isn't the only one that expects you to do your part."  
  
"Madam, believe me, I . . ."  
  
"Don't interrupt! I've been waiting for you to show yourself on that pitch. You probably don't even understand what's at stake! Well, your time here at Hogwarts has passed the halfway mark and you've nary a match to show for it! We need to see you out there next month!"  
  
Without waiting for a reply, Madam Hooch turned on her heels and marched back out of the wing, leaving Cho literally shaking in the bed.  
  
Roger was pale as well, but tried to make a joke of it: "Well, I didn't expect the Lord of the Admiralty."  
  
It worked. Cho smiled, and let go of the breath she'd been holding. The atmosphere became immediately lighter, just as the rest of the team came into the wing.  
  
"Sorry, Cho," Jinx Jenkins started, "I guess you've heard . . ."  
  
"Nothing to apologize for; I know you did your best."  
  
"All right, everyone!" Davies was acting as if he were giving a pep talk. "We're down but not out. It's three weeks until the next match, when we have it out with Gryffindor. Winner gets the honor of stomping Slytherin's face in the mud!" Cho looked around; the others were nodding and grinning, the defeat forgotten.  
  
"I know the way Wood's mind works. He's going to drive the team without mercy; three practices a week, and more if he can get away with it. We don't need those many, though; we'll just keep to the schedule. Stay rested, stay loose. They'll be the ones feeling the pressure.  
  
"As for you, Cho." She was actually startled to hear him call her name. "I'm issuing a direct order to you. Friday the fourth, I want you to skive off all your classes. I'll fix it with the professors, but your marks are good so you won't suffer. Try to stay in Ravenclaw House; if we can get your meals to the Common Room, we'll do that. Best would be to stay in bed in your dorm all day."  
  
"ROGER!"  
  
"Better not let that one get out," Skiddle smiled over Cho's protest. "If Grimaldi hears she's been confined to bed, he'll probably volunteer to enforce it."  
  
Roger actually blushed as the others-including Cho-snickered.  
  
"Well, you know what I mean. Take it easy before the game. No accidents, no incidents."  
  
Cho gave a flat-handed salute. "Aye-aye, Captain," she laughed.  
  
"Can we get back before the lunch is all gone?" Molina complained. "We'll be up later, Cho."  
  
The team all waved and smiled as they left the hospital wing. Roger Davies stayed behind.  
  
He had walked the team halfway to the door. As he came back to Cho's bed, he seemed very earnest. "I meant it, Cho," Roger was saying. "The last two scores were so close without you, I know we'd have won if we'd played a real Seeker."  
  
"Thank you, Roger," she smiled. "I won't let you down."  
  
"So, how long are you stuck here?"  
  
"Until I give her leave to go!" Madam Pomfrey had returned to the wing. "She had a head-on with a solid piece of furniture, and I wish to be satisfied that she won't collapse in a day or a week. Get on now!"  
  
Roger tried to speak, but Cho held up her hand. "See you in the Common Room tonight."  
  
As Madam Pomfrey escorted Roger to the door, Cho settled back into the bed, recalling his words. "A real Seeker."  
  
Those were the most wonderful words she'd ever heard!  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 43, wherein Cho and other Ravenclaws kick back the night before the big match. 


	43. The Night Before

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
43. The Night Before  
  
The next three weeks were unlike any that Cho had ever spent preparing for a match. The Ravenclaws had their usual practices, while Oliver Wood put the Gryffindors through no less than five practices a week! It seemed absurd, but Cho admitted that it was probably also necessary since Harry Potter no longer had his Nimbus Two Thousand. He'd been practicing on a Shooting Star, an old school broom that was older and slower than Cho's Comet Two Sixty.  
  
"I can't believe he's really riding that old horse into battle," Jinx said at dinner the Wednesday night before the match. "It has to be a trick. No Seeker would use it."  
  
"Well, if he's got a proper broom, where is it?" Becksnee asked. "Hey, Rog, d'you think Wood might keep a Nimbus or something hidden until the match?"  
  
"Nah. He wouldn't let Potter get used to one broom and then switch him at the last moment. He's on that Shooting Star because that's all they've got."  
  
Roger went back to attacking his roast chicken. Cho spent that dinner as she'd spent many dinners the past two weeks: staring at the back of the head of Harry Potter.  
  
xxx  
  
On Friday, February 4, Cho awoke to find a tray of food on her writing desk. Jan was just putting on her robes. "Right, then. Yeh know the orders fer the day. Roger asked us teh make sure yeh miss ev'ry single class today."  
  
"Oh, this is ridiculous!" Cho laughed as she started to get out of bed.  
  
"Oh no it's not!" Diana Fairweather wagged a finger at her. "Flitwick is doing Confusion Charms today. Just your luck you'd take a heavy dose and start chasing Bludgers tomorrow instead of the Snitch."  
  
"Fine; you've made your point. But this is absolutely the LAST time!"  
  
"Of course it is," said Letitia. "We just want you to break that run of bad luck; after that, you're on your own."  
  
"Which is how we'll leave you," Libby said. "But we'll be back during the breaks."  
  
"Meanwhile, yeh can do what Ravenclaws do best: read a book."  
  
That's easy to say, Cho thought, when her mates had gone to class and she was alone in the Common Room. But look at all the books. Which one do I curl up with at a time like this? She smiled as she realized that the question was so simple it answered itself. On the eve of her first official Hogwarts match, there was only one book: "The Broom Gets All the Credit", by Eunice Murray.  
  
As Cho settled into the day bed and opened the book, she realized that she hadn't read it in ages, but didn't need to. She'd practically memorized the book. And yet, as she read, she realized with a start that she was reading things differently. Certain passages had changed, or rather her experience had changed, and made her look at the book in a new light.  
  
Cho realized that she now had experiences she didn't have when she found the book, which was-heavens-five years ago?! As she read about Murray being battered by Bludgers, she could remember how her own bruises felt after rough practices. When Murray wrote of the loneliness of waiting in hospital to be healed, Cho remembered her own days and nights in the wing. And when Murray wrote of the rush of the wind, the cold bite of the rain, the vibrating of the Snitch in the hand-Cho had felt it all, and remembered it all.  
  
This wasn't her old favorite book, but a new book, made new by her life experiences. And Cho found that she loved it all the more.  
  
She read through the day as she had read through the night when she was younger. She didn't even notice lunch, much less stop reading for it. When it came to dinner, once again her mates brought food up from the Great Hall, although she hardly ate a bite. She hardly even paid attention to what else was happening in the Common Room-  
  
until Roger Davies stormed in.  
  
He came in looking as if he wanted to fight a mountain troll, and that the troll might come off the worse for it. His jaw tight, his teeth bared, his fists clenched, he paced the Common Room, looking perhaps for something to throw, until he stopped in his tracks, threw back his head and yelled:  
  
"F---ING FIREBOLT!"  
  
Cho and her friends in the Common Room just stared at him nervously.  
  
"I can translate that." It was Erasmus Skittle. "He saw Gryffindor practicing at the stadium this evening. Potter's got himself a new broom after all."  
  
"And it's a Firebolt?" Cho asked.  
  
Roger blurted out, "F---ING FIREBOLT!"  
  
"Top of the line," Skiddle nodded. "Going to be tough to beat."  
  
Roger seemed to come out of a trance and rushed over to Cho. "This changes everything! We've got to get you a whole new strategy. We need a practice session tonight!"  
  
"Roger! Roger!" Cho laughed as she tried to keep from being pulled out of the day bed. "Get a grip on yourself! Just have a seat."  
  
Roger looked at Cho rather dubiously but took the comfy chair next to the day bed.  
  
"You did the right thing in telling me to take the day off. It gave me a chance to reread Eunice Murray, and she's got the correct attitude toward this. Listen." Cho turned to a dog-eared page and started reading aloud:  
  
"If I'd spent my salary forever buying 'the best broom money can buy', I'd have spent more time shopping for brooms than playing the game. The fact is that a Seeker doesn't play against a broom, but against another Seeker. The broom is only part of the Seeker, and not such a large part at that. There is so much more to consider: the experience, the reflexes, the sharp eye and the sure hand. We've all lost to slower brooms and managed to beat out faster ones, because in the final analysis it's one Seeker against another."  
  
Cho closed the book and looked at Roger. He was staring at his lap, his cheeks burning.  
  
"Remember in June, Roger? I beat Malfoy and he was riding an Oh One. That broom makes my Comet look just as ridiculous as a Firebolt would. But that's not what we have to worry about tomorrow. I have to worry about the Snitch; you have to worry about the Quaffle. And we both have to play better than Gryffindor, regardless of who's riding what. Really, Roger, we're going to be fine."  
  
Roger looked up. "You think so?"  
  
"I know it," Cho smiled.  
  
Roger finally smiled. "Thanks, Cho. You know, you're the . . ." Roger suddenly stopped himself, as he looked around the Common Room and realized that there were two dozen Ravenclaws listening to him. "See ya tomorrow," he said hastily as he got up and ran up the stairs toward his dorm. After a minute, though, those in the Common Room could hear a voice come down the steps: "F---ing Firebolt."  
  
xxx  
  
Hardly any studying got done that evening in the Common Room. Cho and friends had taken over the territory near the day bed, and seemed determined to make each other laugh, no matter what it took. Others joined them, including (and Cho was overjoyed to see her) Penelope Clearwater. They told jokes, they told stories (true or not, it didn't seem to matter), and they drank bottle after hidden bottle of butterbeer.  
  
By ten that evening, they were running out of steam but they kept on; at this point, they were making up slogans for Ravenclaw House.  
  
"Ravenclaw: We Fly While the Others Try!"  
  
"No: 'We Fly While the Others Cry!'"  
  
"If at first you don't succeed, you're not Ravenclaw!"  
  
A Third Year had been hanging about the edges of the group, and now stepped up. Sally Fawcett was clever enough to be Sorted into Ravenclaw, but turned out to be precocious in other areas as well. Vincent Krixlow had started referring to her as "Fawcett by name and by nature, because it's so easy to turn her on."  
  
"I'd like to propose a toast," she began.  
  
"Ah well, we haven't had many of those tonight, have we?" joked Sixth Year Sybil Gogrinch. In fact, they'd toasted just about everything for the past two hours.  
  
"It'll be the old poem," Sally went on, "with a few changes."  
  
The "old poem" was a bit of verse someone had embroidered some time in the 1600s and was subsequently framed and hung on a wall in the Common Room:  
  
The Slytherin Snake is deceitful and sly The Gryffindor Lion is strong but can fall The Hufflepuff Badger will barely get by While the Ravenclaw Eagle soars over them all!  
  
"I'll need your help," Sally was saying as she moved next to the framed poem. "Read each line aloud, then follow my lead. Off you go!"  
  
Not knowing what was planned, the girls began:  
  
"The Slytherin Snake is deceitful and sly . . ."  
  
"In bed", Fawcett added.  
  
About half of the Ravenclaw girls burst out laughing. Cho was too surprised to laugh.  
  
At a gesture from Sally they went on: "The Gryffindor Lion is strong but can fall . . ."  
  
"In bed."  
  
This time all the girls were laughing. Some of them could hardly catch their breath to move on to the next line: "The Hufflepuff Badger will barely get by . . ."  
  
"In bed!" Some of the girls now joined Sally in adding the new words. Cho was laughing so hard she almost cried as she shouted out the last line with the others:  
  
"BUT THE RAVENCLAW EAGLE SOARS OVER THEM ALL IN BED!"  
  
They all dissolved in laughter, and were content to be scolded by a Prefect a few minutes later that it was time for them all to get some rest.  
  
Cho was literally stumbling up the steps to her dorm. Such were the effects of butterbeer: a kind of liquid butterscotch that, whether hot or cold, when taken in sufficient quantities makes the drinker pleasantly sleepy and at peace with the world. Cho didn't even bother to change out of her casual slacks and pullover sweater; she didn't even bother to brush out her hair. She simply fell onto her bed and was happily asleep in an instant.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 44, wherein Cho finally, FINALLY . . . 


	44. Finally, FINALLY

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
44. Finally, FINALLY  
  
Cho Chang woke up at exactly 6:30 a.m. on Saturday, February 5, with a mouth that tasted of year-old candy. It was her first-ever case of "butterbreath"-the stale sweet taste that resulted from too much butterbeer the night before. She rushed to the lavatory to brush that away, then decided that, as long as she was up, she'd get ready.  
  
There was no momentary fog, no question of "what day is today". She knew exactly what day it was, and what she had to do.  
  
Once she'd washed up, she sat at her dressing-table. By now streaks of light were appearing in the sky. Days are getting longer, she thought to herself. She sat still as a stone watching the day lighten to morning, her mind as much a blank as she could make it. Only when she could see the sun clear the roofs of Hogsmeade, to the east of the castle, and reflect off of the lake, did she seem to remember herself.  
  
Being too tired and happy last night to remember it, she took a brush to her hair, combing it out a full hundred strokes until it flowed like an inky waterfall halfway down her back. Then she took up her wand and muttered a couple of words in Chinese. Her hair re-arranged itself, plaiting itself into two long braids, which then coiled themselves on either side of her head.  
  
Now her nails. She used a simple emery board to file everything down until her nails were gone; another fraction of an inch and she would have drawn blood.  
  
She changed into the same sort of outfit she'd worn the day before: casual slacks and a light but warm pullover. Her Quidditch robes weren't in her wardrobe; Hogwarts' house-elves had spirited away the robes from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and placed them in the changing-rooms of the stadium.  
  
She went down to the Common Room, where most of the team was waiting for her. She silently joined them, waiting for the last to appear-the Beaters, Becksnee and "Jinx" Jenkins. Once they had arrived, the team went to the Great Hall for breakfast.  
  
Usually on a game day Cho ate very little: a spoonful of eggs, a corner of toast, maybe a single sausage. Today, she didn't even feel that hungry. At her wish, something appeared that was seldom seen at the House tables: a tea service. She poured herself a single cup, and slowly sipped at it, seemingly lost in thought.  
  
The team realized that the Gryffindor players had already been to breakfast and gone. Draco Malfoy, however, was still at the Slytherin table. He got up and strolled over to Cho, standing directly behind her. "You may not realize it yet," he said in a near-whisper, "but you are going to be positively sick today."  
  
Cho nodded her head; "And you're doing an excellent job of getting me there."  
  
Becksnee and Skiddle tried to keep from laughing, but failed. Apparently, Draco was a glutton for punishment.  
  
Malfoy barely managed to keep his composure as he continued: "It seems Potter's got a new broom, after all; better than his old Nimbus."  
  
"We know all about the Firebolt, Mister Malfoy, thank you very much. I'm not particularly worried about it; are you? If so, perhaps we could arrange another hippogriff for you."  
  
Draco walked away in a foul mood, not at all sure what it would take to get a rise out of the Ravenclaw Seeker.  
  
"Seriously, Cho," Roger said in a low voice, "that snotty little git has a point."  
  
"We've practiced how to deal with Seekers on faster brooms, Roger. And we've all watched Harry play for two years now. He likes to Seek high, pretend he hasn't seen the Snitch when he actually has, and then rush to close the gap. My Sprints can deal with that."  
  
Now Roger was at a loss for words. "Er, right. Well. We leave the Common Room at half past ten. Don't break anything in the meantime."  
  
"Don't worry," she smiled.  
  
Roger suddenly decided that he had to go to the Head Table to talk to Professor Flitwick.  
  
Cho went back to the Common Room, but couldn't sit still. Reading was hopeless; her eyes kept drifting to the sundial above the mantel. One by one the other players came into the room, but none of them said anything to each other. This was a time and place where words didn't count for anything.  
  
At 10:29, Roger came in through the bookcase. The rest of the team rose, and they all filed out of Ravenclaw House.  
  
xxx  
  
The Ravenclaw robes and brooms had been placed in one of the changing rooms at the stadium, each marked with a Quaffle, Bludger, Hoop or Snitch. Cho first put on her shin-guards, drawing the bindings a bit tighter than she ever had before. Then the blue-and-bronze-trimmed robes with the Ravenclaw rampant eagle insignia. Finally, her mitts: a pair of dragon-hide gloves with the fingers out. This offered some protection to the Seeker's hands; from time to time, the Snitch had been known to fly straight at the Seeker, in order to break some bones and thus escape capture. Cho noticed that some of the stitches were giving way. She'd have to get a new pair over the summer.  
  
As they waited in the changing room, the amplified voice of Lee Jordan piped up over every other sound:  
  
"Hallo, Hogwarts! And welcome to another exciting Quidditch match. Today, the most recent team to win the Cup, Ravenclaw House, will go up against Gryffindor, in an elimination contest; the winner to go up against Slytherin for the Quidditch Cup.  
  
"Before we bring the Ravenclaw team onto the field, I've been asked to make this announcement. It seems that the Ravenclaw team is making history today. For the first time since something that is spoken of only as "the Twillhammer affair" of 1877, the Ravenclaw line-up will include a witch. Captained by Roger Davies, the team from Ravenclaw!"  
  
For the first time in her life, Cho was walking to the center of the field, to wait with the other Regulars for the start of play. And maybe it was the acoustics of the stadium, or maybe she'd never heard the applause quite so loud.  
  
I've been here before, she thought; we've practiced here more times than I can count. But with everyone-EVERYONE-here, it looks so much larger, the stands so much taller . . . Never mind. I've flown that high, I can fly even higher-  
  
She was distracted by Lee Jordan, who seemed to be saying: "blahblah GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
Here they came onto the pitch, billowing red robes, and the students' cheers seemed to grow even louder. Keeper Wood, very good at what he does, a bit of a fanatic, according to Roger; the Chasers, all witches and all of them very talented; lucky I don't have to tangle with any of them. Fred and George, the Godawful Beater twins-not exactly down to Slytherin standards but still they'll give us a rough day of it.  
  
And Harry Potter.  
  
Nobody can get drunk on butterbeer, and Cho certainly didn't feel any after- effects of the night before, but she suddenly found herself uncontrollably giddy. For two years, she watched with the rest of Hogwarts as the legendary Ha Li Po Te, the Hero Who Vanquished the Dark Lord, added a new layer to his reputation by starting out as a highly talented Seeker and growing from there. She knew that he was the best in the school, but the idea of competing against him in the chase for the Golden Snitch didn't make her at all nervous.  
  
In fact, she smiled as she watched Harry take his place on the pitch as the captains shook hands and Madam Hooch gave the usual opening instructions. She smiled as she remembered her first Hogwarts flying lesson, and how the students faced each other in two rows, as if they were at a dance. And here it is again, and she practically giggled as the thought crossed her mind: May I have the pleasure of this dance, Mister Harry Potter?  
  
Directly across from her, Cho watched as Harry stared straight at her, with an expression she couldn't mistake:  
  
He's nervous! That's-adorable!  
  
She felt Madam Hooch's whistle more than heard it, and it was on pure reflex that she kicked up into the air, watching Harry soar up to his usual hunting-ground above the action, while she settled halfway between the earth and Harry Potter.  
  
Lee Jordan wasn't exactly calling the game, since it had only just started, but he was nattering on about the Firebolt as if it were the Seeker and Harry was just along for the ride. Eunice Murray was right, Cho decided as she scanned the stadium for the Snitch; no matter how much you love the game, if you're not a player, you'll never understand.  
  
Katie Bell took first possession, and she was very good, charging down on Roger as if he wasn't even there. But Cho noticed this out of the corner of her eye, as she was busy shadowing Harry. The Snitch was nowhere in sight. Might as well introduce him to the Sprints-a little something she and Roger had worked out.  
  
She saw Harry crossing to the Gryffindor goals. She rose up behind Harry and to the left, then swiftly cut down two feet in front of him, forcing him to the right. He turned again toward the goals, and Cho fell behind him again, then sprang up just in front of him. He veered off to the left. Her smile broadened; she felt like a sheepdog rounding up a stray. The Sprints were working. She couldn't keep up with a Firebolt's flat-out top speed, but a short fast hop was sometimes all that was needed  
  
Katie, meanwhile was trying to get past Roger, was being rebuffed each time, then gamely recovering and trying again. It was as if the sun wouldn't rise again tomorrow unless she scored the first goal.  
  
Harry countered Cho's Sprints by rushing toward the Ravenclaw goalpost; Cho kept up as best she could. Just as he got around it, though, he put on a burst of speed that took him halfway across the field in nothing flat. Just as he stopped in mid-field, Katie Bell managed to shoulder past Roger and score the first points of the game.  
  
Amid the cheering, Cho saw Harry turn suddenly and dive to the ground. Now she too saw the Snitch and sped toward it. Harry was too close; she couldn't catch up now-  
  
WHAM! Jinx Jenkins sent a Bludger straight toward Harry's head. It would have shattered his glasses if he hadn't swerved away. And, when he swerved, he lost sight of the Snitch.  
  
Thank you, Jinx, Cho muttered, as she glanced at the scoreboard: Gryffindor 80 Ravenclaw 0. Eighty? Where was I when that happened? The cheering changed as Erasmus Skiddle scored the first Ravenclaw goal, then two more in quick succession. Ravenclaw was rallying; Cho redoubled her search for the Snitch. So did Harry; she watched him drop down close to the pitch, narrowly missing a collision with Pablo Molina in the process.  
  
There! I see it! Oh, he sees it. Can't get to it first, but I can get to him first!  
  
With another Sprint, Cho stopped between Harry and the Snitch. She hung in the air, smiling. It worked! He didn't try to go around; he actually stopped! Wood yelled at Harry; when he looked back at Cho, she was still there, still smiling, with the one thought in her head: How do you like THIS Seeker, Mister Harry Potter?  
  
Harry climbed back up; she decided to follow him. He went into a swift dive; she didn't see a Snitch but followed anyway. Part of her mind warned her that she was falling into a trap. He swooped back up; she decided to stop shadowing him and stayed close to the turf. Then they both saw the Snitch; down by the Ravenclaw goal.  
  
The two Seekers sped forward; Harry high, Cho low. Harry was closer; Cho would try one more Sprint-  
  
And then she saw the Dementors.  
  
Three of them rose up out of the stands right in front of Cho. Her hand, outstretched toward the Snitch, became a pointing finger as she screamed, then swerved away.  
  
Turning back from a safe distance, she saw Harry whip out his wand and let loose some kind of Charm at the dementors. With the wand still in one hand, Harry grabbed the Snitch with the other. Gryffindor won.  
  
Cho was frozen. She had let Gryffindor win; scared off of the Snitch by dementors who weren't even dementors after all. Some Slytherins were trying to throw Potter off of his game; or maybe Cho, or maybe both. But in that moment, Cho had only one thought:  
  
Harry was ready for dementors? What kind of practices does Wood run?  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 45, wherein Roger has some serious words for Cho the next day, and Hogwarts isn't talking about the game 


	45. The One Responsible

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
45. The One Responsible  
  
By the time any student gets to be a Fourth Year at Hogwarts, the library is no longer a mystery. If they don't know precisely where a given book can be found, they at least know the layout and the sections, and can find their way from one aisle to another without, for instance, grabbing a book on voodoo at the edge of the Restricted section instead of a treatise on the history of cats as familiars.  
  
This knowledge also comes in handy when one does not wish to be found, and on 5 February Cho Chang wished desperately not to be found. She lurked in corners of the stadium until the Ravenclaw changing room was empty, dashed in, shed her robes, and dashed out again. She avoided the noisy lunch in the Great Hall and didn't dare go to the Common Room, or even back to Ravenclaw at all.  
  
She lost herself among the more esoteric volumes in the library: Surrounded by accounts of mermaids and the uses of St. Elmo's fire in the nautical magic section, she sat on the floor with her head in her arms, prepared to move if she heard a sound yet not really paying attention.  
  
She stayed in the library until Madam Pince called closing time. Then she stepped briskly out with her head down, taking a very long, wandering route to get back to Ravenclaw House. She got past the tapestry (the password was "fornix"), touched the spine of Confucius, and walked briskly through the Common Room toward the steps to her dorm.  
  
"About time."  
  
Roger had pulled up a chair next to the stairs to the girls' dorms.  
  
"Look, Roger, can we talk about the match tomorrow?"  
  
"No, we can't. You went missing the moment it ended and now you slink back in here because you're trying to avoid talking about it."  
  
"You're right; are you happy? Tomorrow, please."  
  
"No, it's got to be now, no matter how you feel."  
  
"For the record, then, I feel awful. I couldn't feel worse if a dementor came in here, knocked me down and sat on my stomach. Can't this wait?"  
  
"No it can't, for one simple reason: I've been there before. Now sit down, please."  
  
Cho hesitated, and in that moment of hesitation lost her resolve to avoid Roger for as long as possible. She shrugged and sat across from him, on an old Victorian love seat.  
  
"First of all, I'm not going to tell you off because of today's game. You didn't do anything wrong."  
  
"No, I just turned away at the wrong moment and handed the Snitch to Gryffindor."  
  
"We all saw it . . ."  
  
"And the worst part is, they weren't even real dementors!" Cho couldn't sit still; she was up and pacing in front of Roger. ""I should have been able to see that! I saw it all clearly enough after, of course, when it was too late! It was our last chance at the Cup and I cost us that chance!"  
  
"If you're quite finished, Miss Chang, I have just one question: do you want to resign from the team, or do I kick you off?"  
  
The question froze Cho in her pacing. As much as she blamed herself for the day's loss, she still wanted to be on the team-to prove herself, now more than ever. All afternoon and evening she'd felt that she had to resign, but being asked to do it now felt as if she'd be ripping her heart out of her chest.  
  
"Will you please sit back down and listen?" Roger smiled. Cho did so, no longer feeling the anger at herself. In fact, she wasn't sure what she was feeling. "First off, it may have been a stupid disguise in hindsight, but you weren't the only one fooled by it. Potter was, too; I think he's been expecting dementors all year. And if you thought the Snitch wasn't worth taking on three dementors, that just means you're sensible."  
  
"Don't try to cheer me up on that one, Roger. Harry won by not being sensible."  
  
"And that's the only way he won. I've talked to some people at the match, and not just our team. I talked to Hooch, and to Hagrid who's been here forever, and I even sought out Cedric Diggory. They all said the same thing: that you kept Potter off the Snitch far longer than they would have predicted, especially with him on a Firebolt. You played a good game."  
  
Cho didn't want to take her eyes off of her nails. "You have to say that."  
  
"No I don't. I'm not just talking as your Captain. I like to think I'm also a friend."  
  
For the first time since the game, Cho's mouth cracked into a smile. "Of course you are, Roger. It's funny, but I remember how angry you were when I first got here, how absolutely opposed you were to my getting on the team. That's what makes me think that you're one of the best friends I have here."  
  
Roger's face lit up. "Well, high time you noticed. Anyway, I was going to say that you're not the first player to get browned off about a loss. I've felt it; we all have at times. And here's the proof." Roger reached between the cushions of his chair and pulled out "The Broom Gets All the Credit". He handed it to Cho, who noticed the bookmark on page 107. She hardly even needed to open the book; she knew exactly which passage he meant:  
  
"Winning a match, especially an important match, may be the greatest emotional thrill one can feel, but, by the same token, a loss can send one to the depths of despair. Yet time and experience bring maturity and perspective, and it was only later in my career that I truly appreciated the wisdom of the poet who instructed us to 'meet with Triumph and Disaster/And treat those two impostors just the same'. We did not devote our lives to the Crowning Sport of the Wizarding World in order to feel despair or exaltation. There are, believe me, many safer and saner ways of doing both."  
  
When Cho finally closed the book and looked up at Roger, she was smiling and crying at once. "Sorry, Roger. I've just been this daft little twit about the whole thing."  
  
"What you've been," Roger said, leaning forward in his chair so that his knees almost touched Cho's, "is getting over your first match. We all go through it. Next year it'll be different."  
  
"Next year, Ravenclaw wins back the Cup."  
  
"You going in for Divination, then?"  
  
Cho and Roger simply smiled at each other for a minute. Cho felt as if she was waiting for Roger to make the next move, and she didn't know quite what that next move would be . . .  
  
"What's all this then!"  
  
They both jumped as Vincent Krixlow walked from the bookcase to the Common Room. "Not interrupting anything rude and improper, am I? If so, please carry on; don't mind me."  
  
"This is about Quidditch!" Roger shouted back, his face a deep pink.  
  
"But Quidditch is a team sport," Vincent went on, "so if you need me to join in . . ."  
  
Cho simply drew her wand and pointed it in his general direction. "Two words, Vincent: Jelly. Legs."  
  
Vincent thought better of intruding any further and crossed to the stairs to the boys' dorms. "Well, think I'll call it a night. Remember, you two: if you can't be good, be careful, and if you can't be careful, just don't name it after me." With that, he dashed up the stairs.  
  
Roger was laughing in spite of his anger. "How long has he been like this?"  
  
"Since our first day here. He's incorrigible!" Cho too was laughing as she stood up. "I guess I'll see you in the morning, Roger. And, thanks for everything."  
  
"Think nothing of it. But be prepared; tomorrow, that game will be the main topic of conversation."  
  
xxx  
  
But it wasn't.  
  
Cho slept in that Sunday, even though she heard whispers and murmurs from her mates through the bed curtains. By the time she was fully awake and pulled open the curtains, the other girls were all awake and gone. Unusual for a Sunday. Cho quickly dressed, washed up and went downstairs.  
  
Several groups of Ravenclaws were in the Common Room arguing.  
  
"Sucks we have to wait, just because of Gryffindor."  
  
"If anything really happened to Gryffindor!"  
  
"Come off it! You think they'd lie about a thing like that?"  
  
"But Weasley and the knight in the picture both said so!"  
  
"I know that knight, and he's a total nutcase! Hardly knows what century this is; you think he'd know Sirius Black?"  
  
"What about Sirius Black?" Cho asked  
  
One of the arguing students, a Sixth-Year named Ponsonby Britt, turned to Cho. "Rumour is that he got back into the castle last night."  
  
"Rumour? The bed curtains didn't cut themselves!" answered a Fifth-Year, Greta Oxblog.  
  
"Whose bed curtains?"  
  
Greta turned to Cho. "The young Weasley, Ron. The one who's always hanging about with Harry Potter."  
  
"How did Black get into Gryffindor, much less the castle?"  
  
"As for Hogwarts, nobody knows. But apparently he found a written list of all the Gryffindor passwords and just read down them."  
  
"And THAT's what I refuse to believe!" Britt shouted. "What are the odds of an intruder-even one who manages to get past the dementors and into the castle-conveniently finding a list of the passwords and knowing exactly where to find the House? This only makes sense as just another practical joke by the twins."  
  
"Well, if you want improbability, try this: an hour or two earlier and he would have walked right in on their victory party. Why did he show up at exactly the right day and exactly the right time, and go to exactly the wrong bed?!"  
  
"You think he meant to kill Harry?" Libby Foggly had wandered over from another group of students.  
  
"What's the percentage in killing Ron? I mean, he's hardly the hero who vanquished anything at all, is he?"  
  
"It only makes sense if it was a stunt pulled by the twins, I tell you," Britt insisted. "They knew how to get into the House, and they knew which dorm to be in."  
  
"But Ron Weasley saw someone answering Black's description; so did the painting!"  
  
"A simple Disguising Charm," Britt replied airily. "Anyone here could do it."  
  
"Then why pose as Sirius Black?" Greta persisted. "They had to know it would turn the castle upside-down, put everyone on edge, and just bring the dementors even closer to actually being in Hogwarts. Besides, those two can never manage a straight face; if it was one of their tricks, they'd be laughing their arses off."  
  
"It simply can't have been Black! The whole thing's just impossible!"  
  
"Now, now, Pon, remember Rowena's Rule."  
  
Cho wandered away, remembering Rowena's Rule herself, an old saying attributed to one of the Four Founders of Hogwarts: "If you eliminate the impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."  
  
Just then, Professor Flitwick came in through the bookcase. "Once again," he announced, "a search of the castle has revealed nothing, so the halls have been deemed safe for the moment. We'll be adding additional security measures shortly. In the meantime, go on down and get some breakfast."  
  
By now Cho, who had eaten almost nothing before the match and nothing at all after it, was definitely interested in breakfast. As she neared the doors of the Great Hall, though, she saw Gryffindor Chaser Angelina Johnson coming out. She was talking with a couple of other Gryffindors, but stopped when she saw Cho.  
  
"Hey, Cho!" the black girl called out.  
  
"Yes?" Cho looked up at her.  
  
Angelina was nodding her head. "Good match."  
  
Cho smiled. "Thanks; you, too."  
  
If you're not a player, Cho thought as she went in to breakfast, you don't understand.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 46, wherein Gryffindor plays for the Cup, the students take their exams, and Cho and Roger make plans for the summer  
  
A/N: The Muggle poet quoted by Eunice Murray is Rudyard Kipling, and the line is from his poem "If". As for Rowena's Rule, it is one of the best- known sayings of Sherlock Holmes. Of course, nobody knows where he went to school . . . 


	46. Spring Has Come

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
46. Spring Has Come  
  
It was as if that one game had released Cho from some sort of magic spell. Other witches, who she had never met before, started coming up to her in the corridors between classes, or in the Common Room, or in the Great Hall during meals. They asked questions about schoolwork, or about Quidditch, or about Chinese magic.  
  
At first Cho suspected that this interest in her was largely because Madam Trelawny had started teaching the I Ching in her Sixth-Year Divination classes. At least, she tried to teach it. Cho found herself answering some questions over and over again, showing Madam Trelawny's weak grasp of such matters as moving trigrams. Once Cho had copied out several sets of notes, there were fewer of these sorts of inquiries.  
  
But it wasn't all about homework. Harry Potter wasn't the only one to notice it: she was growing up. She was becoming a beautiful young witch.  
  
Cho herself would have been the last person to recognize herself as beautiful. She seldom spent time in front of a mirror. She brushed her hair mechanically, without inspecting it, usually before a window overlooking the grounds of Hogwarts Academy. Her clothes and robes fit her perfectly, and she left it at that, not caring what kind of figure she cut in them.  
  
But hers would have been an exotic beauty anywhere, but was doubly so here in the Scottish borderlands: her almond-shaped, almond-tinted eyes and her slightly darkened skin and her glossy black hair shouted out her membership in a civilization that had nothing to do with Angles and Saxons and Normans and Celts. There were some (mostly Slytherin) who felt that Cho's looks meant only that she was Not a Member of the Club, but many others acted as if she had personally brought the warm spring weather back to Hogwarts.  
  
Cho enjoyed the milder weather along with the rest of the school, and was not alone in doing so. Friends from Ravenclaw, and gradually from other Houses, took delight in her features, as attractive as a new spring day, and a personality as welcoming as May. Of course, Cho was brought up to be polite, but this sudden rush of popularity was surprising to her, and even a bit heady. Some days she half-expected everyone to go back to their old ways and leave her circle of friends much smaller, but it wasn't happening this spring.  
  
xxx  
  
It grew harder and harder to keep her mind on her studies, as she too got caught up in the Quidditch Cup final match. Students were taking sides, and even though many of them sided with Gryffindor, that didn't mean that Slytherin's partisans weren't loud, persistent, and occasionally devious. There was no overt sabotage or assault on either team, but everyone seemed to feel it would come to that if the game didn't hurry up and get played.  
  
And, on 16 April, 1994, it was played.  
  
Cho had been studying Harry Potter before the February Gryffindor/Ravenclaw match; if anyone asked her why, she'd say that she was "sizing up the opposition". Now the season was over for Ravenclaw, but she kept studying him just the same.  
  
It didn't happen often; mostly at meals, and involved Cho staring at the back of Harry's head, but she didn't seem likely to stop doing it anytime soon. If you asked her why, she'd evade giving an answer.  
  
Perhaps because she didn't have an answer to give.  
  
But her denials of interest in Harry vanished the morning of the big game, when the Gryffindor team came to breakfast and were roundly applauded by almost everyone in the Great Hall. They sat and ate breakfast under the hopeful eyes of almost everyone there (Slytherin excepted, of course), waiting their turn to look at the field, go into the changing rooms and prepare for the match. As they finished breakfast and made to leave, the students cheered again.  
  
And Cho Chang shouted out, "Good luck, Harry!"  
  
And Harry heard her! She knew he heard her because he started blushing. And so did she.  
  
She held her tongue during one of the hardest-fought matches she had ever seen. Slytherin was clearly out to win at all costs. They broke rules-and tried to break bones-in what turned out to be a futile attempt to stop Gryffindor. Cho, meanwhile, cheered each Gryffindor goal and booed each Slytherin foul. She was up on her feet for each shot, and down on the bench for the penalties, and up again as the Seekers chased the Snitch and she could always tell when Harry saw the Snitch, even when he wasn't letting on he saw it, which only made Malfoy look dumber than usual to her, and she spent the last three minutes of the match up and bouncing on the balls of her feet unable to sit still as Harry flew interference for Angelina Johnson, enabling her to score the Quaffle while at the same time giving Harry a chance to scout for the Snitch and when he did see it Cho groaned because Malfoy had already seen in but Harry put on his own burst of unbelievable speed as they grabbed at the Snitch like two kittens playing with a ball, except that kittens and ball were moving at breakneck speed and could kill themselves or each other unless one of them one of them-  
  
YES! HARRY! Harry Potter got the Snitch! Gryffindor won the Cup!  
  
Cho let out the breath she had been holding for the past thirty seconds, sitting exhausted back down on the bench-and at first she was puzzled, because it was the wrong time of the month to be feeling what she thought she was feeling, and then she realized that she was feeling something completely different, and when she realized what it was she had to cover her mouth with both hands to keep from laughing out loud.  
  
xxx  
  
Everything calmed down as the spring deepened, summer approached, and so did the exams. Cho knew that they couldn't hope for history to repeat itself-the successful rescue of a student from the Chamber of Secrets led to the cancellation of exams the year before. So Ravenclaw studied, perhaps a bit more than usual.  
  
But not all the talk was about classes.  
  
On the second Sunday before exams, Cho and some of her mates had taken their books out onto the stone steps that led up to Hogwarts' main doors. The subject was supposed to be Dark Arts.  
  
"Jan?" Cho asked.  
  
"Yeh, what?"  
  
"I wanted to ask about, you know, the Glow."  
  
Since Jan had first mentioned it to Cho six months earlier, others had found out about Jan's ability to see the aura of someone in love. Others had asked for advice or confirmation; Cho had not, until now.  
  
"What I want to know is this. Can you see someone who thinks they're in love with someone else, even if that someone else isn't really in love with the first person, or maybe one of the people isn't really sure if what they feel about the other person is really-real." Cho's voice trailed off as Jan tried not to laugh at her friend.  
  
"I think I follow all that, an' the answer is, no. Yeh can't see it if it's all on one side. If yeh could, ye'd just end up seein' ever'body. 'Cause we all wants ter be loved, don' we, when it's all said an' done. It's like me mam says: if we saw the glow of those who wanted to be loved, the world would be so bright none of us could get any sleep."  
  
"So you think we all come up wanting love?" asked Libby Foggly. "Does that include the Dark Lord?"  
  
The others looked at Libby in shock. "That was in really poor taste," scolded Letitia Groondy.  
  
"No; just think about it. Most wizards-or Muggles-aren't born great; they have to become over time whatever they're going to be. So, was there a point somewhere when the Dark Lord was just a kid like us? Did he want the kinds of things we want? And if one little thing had gone different for him, would he even have gone on to become the Dark Lord?"  
  
The Ravenclaws did think about it. Cho tried to remember the earliest bits from a biography of Grindelwald, the Teutonic sorcerer who caused so much destruction during the Muggles' Second World War. Before she could pick anything specific, though, Jan spoke up.  
  
"I jus' finished a paper on Alberich for Binns. He's this ugly ol' dwarf who tried to flirt with these water sprites who live in the River Rhine. Well, they weren't havin' none o' him. So he says as how he's through wi' love forever. Now, sayin' this made it possible for him to take enchanted gold from the Rhine an' make it into a Ring of power. An' by the time his story is over, he's destroyed Heaven an' the Muggles an' the wizards an' all."  
  
"All over some water sprites?" Letitia asked weakly.  
  
"Coulda been about anythin'! But not havin' love made him mean enough to destroy the world; or so the story goes."  
  
"I can think of some Slytherin that love could never help," Cho said in a whisper, looking around just in case. "That Quidditch team is . . ."  
  
"Belt up!" Jan whispered. She'd caught sight of Draco Malfoy walking by the lake, hand in hand with another Slytherin from his year, Pansy Parkinson.  
  
Eyebrows went up all around the group. "Maybe pigs CAN fly," Letitia snickered.  
  
"But he's still a rotten Seeker. You all saw what he tried to do to Harry during the Cup match; and that dementor trick before that!"  
  
"Matters a lot to yeh, Cho?"  
  
"No! Well, not really. I mean, I have to know who I'm up against, don't I?"  
  
"But what's really important is where you're up against him," Libby grinned.  
  
"You're AWFUL!" Cho laughed as she and Libby threw scrolls at each other for a minute. Then they settled down again and returned to studying.  
  
xxx  
  
The year ended with the usual round of exams, and with Cho getting good marks in almost all courses. She was graded down on Potions, but then, so was every student who wasn't a Slytherin. Snape had spent the year nursing some sort of old grudge, which had made him more impatient and critical than usual. The day after exams were over, Hogwarts found out why: Snape revealed that Professor Lupin was a werewolf. Lupin had to resign at once.  
  
"Now that's a shame," said Libby Foggly, who specialized in Defense Against the Dark Arts. "After that old fraud Lockhart, Lupin really knew what he was doing. I was looking forward to next year with him."  
  
She was talking to Cho and Jan at the Three Broomsticks over iced glasses of butterbeer. The day after exams was a Hogsmeade visiting day, and almost the entire school took advantage of it. The students, however, weren't the only extra color in the town that day. Witches and wizards were starting to arrive in the British Isles in anticipation of the finals of the World Quidditch Cup in August. Quite a few wizards in town that day had crossed over to Hogsmeade from France, where the French National team would take on the Italians in a few days.  
  
"Room for one more, ladies?" Roger Davies had walked up to the table.  
  
"Always, Roger," Cho smiled, gesturing toward the lone empty chair.  
  
"Ah, well, we'd better be off," Jan said, hastily standing up.  
  
Libby joined her. "Yes, you two probably have lots of things to discuss. And some might even have to do with Quidditch." She was laughing as she blended into the crowd.  
  
Cho was on her feet, calling to the two girls "Wait a minute!", when she realized that Roger had done and said exactly the same thing. They looked at each other, both chuckled a bit embarrassedly, and sat back down.  
  
There was a slight awkward pause until Cho said, "So, what are your plans for the summer? The World Cup, of course?"  
  
"Of course; couldn't miss it, and it's right on my doorstep, so to speak. I'm going to have to work for a few weeks, but I'll get the time off."  
  
"Same with me," Cho nodded. "My family is taking me, but I think they feel I have to earn it."  
  
"As far as I'm concerned, you have."  
  
"Be sure to tell them, then," Cho laughed. "But, honestly, I don't mind. How do you think your O.W.L.s went?"  
  
"Best I could do, but I feel I did all right. Seventh Year's got me worried, though."  
  
"I'm sure you'll be fine."  
  
They were distracted by shouting at the bar. A witch and a wizard were screaming at each other in French, loudly enough for passers-by in the street to look through the window. They were in their twenties; she was strikingly beautiful with long brown hair that hung over one side of her face, while he was strikingly handsome with a pencil-thin moustache and short, slicked-back hair.  
  
Everyone in the inn watched for another minute, as the French couple didn't seem to care who saw or heard them. At one point, though, they suddenly went for their wands, but no sooner had they drawn them then the wands rose up to the ceiling-Charmed there by Madam Rosmerta.  
  
"There'll be none of that in my place!": she scolded the pair. "Allez! Allez!" She practically shoved them out into the street, only bringing down their wands when they were on the threshold.  
  
Cho hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until she let it all out at once.  
  
"Well, that was a change," Jan said; she and Libby had back away from the couple when they drew their wands. "They do say that yeh see more o' these goings-on at the Hog's Head."  
  
"I suppose you didn't have to worry about seeing a Glow on them," Cho whispered to Jan.  
  
"Are ye daft? They had the brightest Glow in the place!"  
  
Cho was so busy trying to puzzle that one out that she didn't even notice Roger excuse himself and leave.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 47, where Cho discusses Quidditch with some children and a former Wasp 


	47. A Quidditch Summer 1: Diagon Alley

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
47. A Quidditch Summer 1: Diagon Alley  
  
The entire month of July was hot, humid and tedious. Hardly anyone ventured out into Diagon Alley for weeks, and Cho, sitting behind the counter of her family's herb shoppe, felt utterly alone. Chairman Miao would occasionally walk across the counter, or sleep in Cho's lap, or stretch out on the immaculate wooden floor. Business was very slow.  
  
Still, Cho accepted it as the price she had to pay. As long as she was still able to get away two afternoons a week to keep in practice for Quidditch, she knew that this was her parents' way of making sure that she earned their trip to the World Cup in August.  
  
She followed the playoffs in the Daily Prophet along with the rest of England's wizarding world: it had all started with thirty-two teams from around the world, playing in far-flung venues, seasoned veterans and ambitious newcomers all competing for the Cup. There had been memorable moments already: France's win over Chile in the first round after two rain- soaked hours of play; the head-on collision between the Seekers from Germany and New Zealand in the second round, and the controversial ruling that New Zealand won by clinging to more of the Snitch than Germany; the decisive Spanish win over Venezuela followed by Spain's decisive defeat at the hands of the seemingly unstoppable Peru.  
  
It was the middle of August. Cho's mother Lotus was adding some fresh eglantine to the displays. Cho was just reading about the two semi-final matches to be played that week: Bulgaria/New Zealand and Ireland/Peru. The winners would fight for the Cup in exactly two weeks, and she'd be there to see it!  
  
The shop bell rang; Cho was on her feet and bowing toward the door before she even brought her eyes up to see who it was. It was a man with dark skin, short hair and a closely-cropped dark beard. He wore an impeccably tailored Muggle suit, although his wand was clipped to his belt. He was followed into the shop by two women whose black dresses covered them from shoulder to floor, and whose black hoods and veils masked all but their eyes.  
  
"As-Salaam alaikum," Cho greeted the visitors.  
  
The man seemed surprised, but replied, "Wa-Alaikum Salaam."  
  
As he began to speak, Cho smiled and said, "Sorry, sir, but that's all I know."  
  
"Don't worry," the shorter of the women spoke up, "it's all you need to know." The woman moved her veil a bit to show her face.  
  
"RAINA!" This was only the sixth week of school holidays, but the girls hugged each other as if they'd been separated for years. They started bombarding each other with questions, until Lotus cleared her throat a bit loudly.  
  
Cho came to herself. "So sorry, mother. This is Raina al-Qaba, one of the girls in my year at Hogwarts. We're both in Ravenclaw. I'm sure I've spoken of her."  
  
"Pardon me, Cho," Raina said, "but I'd better take over the introductions." She turned to the man in the suit, who looked very serious, almost angry. "This is my father, Muammar al-Qaba, and my mother, Parvin."  
  
Lotus bowed. "It is an honour to meet you both."  
  
The expression on Muammar's face didn't change a bit as he spoke. "We came to shop for school supplies for my daughter, and it occurred to me that, in my line of work, I need assurances that certain herbs and medicinals will be imported to England on a regular basis, with no challenges at Customs. Perhaps we can discuss this?"  
  
"As long as it is within Muggle law and wizarding law, we are at your service," Lotus bowed again.  
  
"I am a businessman of impeccable reputation."  
  
"I have no doubt." It sounded to Cho as if they were insulting each other, yet they did not show it. "Perhaps we can discusss this further in the parlour upstairs. Cho, prepare some iced tea for our guests, then come back and watch the store while we talk."  
  
Cho couldn't complain; it was a sensible arrangement. Besides, she could use it to her advantage. "Mother, could Raina stay in the shoppe with me? We have so many things to talk about."  
  
Cho's mother glanced at Raina's father, who gave a barely detectable nod. "Fine, after you've prepared the tea."  
  
A few minutes later, Cho rushed down the steps from the parlour to the shoppe. Raina had removed the veil from her face, although the rest of her was still covered.  
  
"Is that . . . all right?" Cho asked, vaguely pointing at Raina's face.  
  
For the first time she could remember, she saw Raina's face take on a look of anger. "That veil was for him, not for God," she muttered. Cho guessed that she'd had some sort of argument with her father.  
  
A second later, Raina was her old self as she turned to Cho. "But I got my books, plus the new robes!"  
  
"What new robes?"  
  
"Didn't you get your school letter yet? Mine arrived last night."  
  
"I haven't checked today yet. Maybe Quan Yin stopped along the way."  
  
Raina pulled the Hogwarts letter out of her pocket. "Here's the mystery." She was pointing to a line requiring "Dress robes, suitable for formal occasions".  
  
"What sort of formal occasion do you think they'd be planning?" Raina asked.  
  
"I haven't the foggiest," Cho said. "We've had parties and dances before, and none of them required dress robes."  
  
"Maybe the Minister is coming for a visit!"  
  
"No, I think he was there last year, with all the Sirius Black trouble. I thought I saw him in Hogsmeade, anyway."  
  
"Unless it's something to do with the World Cup!"  
  
"You think so?"  
  
"Makes sense, doesn't it? Ireland will probably win the Cup, and they could come home by way of Hogwarts, or stop by just after school starts, maybe put on an exhibition match! They know we're a great school and we put a lot of stock in Quidditch."  
  
"Well, I hardly think the Irish team . . ."  
  
"Besides, that Seeker of theirs, Moran, may be looking for a girlfriend who cares as much about Quidditch as he does."  
  
"Raina, please! I think I'd like someone a little closer to my own age."  
  
"Who, Roger? Maybe Diggory?"  
  
"No comment."  
  
"Or maybe Harry Potter. OR, maybe you like Malfoy!"  
  
Cho playfully swung at Raina. "Take that back or I'll Hex you!" Cho laughed.  
  
"Allah wil protect me-and then I'll Hex you!"  
  
"And then I'll Hex you!"  
  
"And then I'll Hex YOU!!"  
  
The two girls chased each other around the shoppe, laughing harder than they had in a long time. They almost didn't hear the steps on the stairs. Quickly, Cho put a serious look on her face, while Raina reattached her veil.  
  
Muammar barely looked at his daughter as he told Mrs. Chang, "Thank you for an enjoyable time. I will send your husband the necessary papers." With that, he turned and left the shoppe, with Raina falling into line behind him.  
  
xxx  
  
As the Cup Finals drew closer, the crowds in Diagon Alley grew larger. A few went to the stadium to camp out a week or two in advance, but most of the others waited. Plus, wizarding visitors from around the world were stopping off to see London, which meant a trip to Diagon Alley.  
  
One week after her meeting with Raina, Cho decided that, if she didn't get her new mitts now, she might never have the chance. The stores would be hopelessly crowded after the Cup. So, she got her mother to agree to letting her leave the shoppe for an hour to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies.  
  
The store was being watched that day by an old wizard, one of the owners who seldom tended the store himself. He was explaining to a customer, wishing to buy an indoor mini-Quaffle for his children, that he would wait until the last day to go to the Cup. "I'd pay to see some Quidditch, but not a bunch of folks on a campout."  
  
Not in a good mood today, are we, thought Cho as she started to try on mitts. Just then, the customer, who spoke with a heavy Australian accent, asked: "Didn't you used to play before?"  
  
"Of course I did!" the old man said, still sounding angry. "Seeker for Wimbourne back in the Sixties, before my eyes went bad and they had to retire me. Listen! You want to hear something that'll disgust yeh? Go down to Dorset there and ask them Wasps they got now who ol' Gridpipe was. Don't none of them know anymore; don't none of them remember." The Australian took his purchases and left, but the old man kept on. "Now it's all flash and good looks; the team started going downhill when they took on that Bagman, and I'll say it to my dying day. Nobody even knows anymore what two things yeh need to be a Seeker!"  
  
Without even thinking about it, Cho spoke up: "Skills and honour."  
  
She turned toward the old man, speaking as she slowly walked toward him. "Honour without skills is bravery, and skills without honour is mere technique, and these alone do not catch the Snitch. They must work together, so that the Seeker can play the game as it was meant to be played."  
  
The old man's face had changed while Cho spoke. Now he was smiling, as if he beheld an angel. "Here," he said softly, "how old are you, anyway?"  
  
"Fifteen."  
  
"I would have taken yeh for younger. Do you know how long it's been since a fifteen-year-old quoted Eunice Murray back to me?"  
  
"I fell in love with the book when I was ten."  
  
Just then, a group of children burst into the store. They were four or five boys, and one girl, about age eight. They grabbed some World Cup banners and took them to the counter, with an argument going on all the while.  
  
"There is not!" one of the boys kept shouting.  
  
"There is too!" the girl kept shouting back.  
  
"There is not!"  
  
"There is TOO!"  
  
"What are you lot on about?" Gridpipe asked as he reached for their money.  
  
The girl quickly told him: "They keep saying there's no girl Seekers but they're WRONG!"  
  
"But there AREN'T any girl Seekers!"  
  
"Oh?" Gridpipe asked. "What about Kineen for Holyhead? She's a girl Seeker."  
  
"Holyhead has only witches anyway; that doesn't count."  
  
"Then what about Eunice Murray?"  
  
"Who's she when she's at home?"  
  
"Only the best Seeker Montrose ever had, back in the Thirties . . ."  
  
"But that's old history; I mean now."  
  
"Excuse me," Cho said, "but I'm a Seeker."  
  
The arguing stopped as the children stared at Cho. The boy finally asked, "Who do you play for, then?"  
  
"My House team at Hogwarts Academy."  
  
"That's school Quidditch. That's not real Quidditch."  
  
"I beg your pardon," Cho smiled, "but when I fly, the wind in my face is real, and when it storms, the rain in my robes is real, and when I catch the Snitch, and feel it humming in my hand, that's very real."  
  
"You see?!" smirked the little girl.  
  
The boy digested this for a minute, then reacted as a boy his age might: by rearing back, punching Cho on the arm, then running out of the store, with the other boys right behind him.  
  
Cho sighed and turned back to Gridpipe, when she felt a tug on the sleeve of her robe. The little girl was still standing there.  
  
"Are you really a Seeker?" she asked barely above a whisper.  
  
"I really am," Cho smiled.  
  
Then the girl smiled. "Then I'M gonna be one too!"  
  
"Good for you. It's hard work, but give it your best, and I know you'll be a good Seeker."  
  
The child nodded her head, then turned and ran out of the store.  
  
Cho looked at the door for a while, and at the people passing on the other side, before turning back to Gridpipe. "Now, how much for these?"  
  
The old man smiled. "This just happens to be our special sale day, when we give free mitts to Hogwarts Seekers."  
  
"No; I'm sorry. Thank you, but I insist on paying my own way."  
  
"Then could you do an old man a favour? Send me an owl when you play your next match. I think it'd be worth the trip to see that."  
  
"Of course I'll remember."  
  
Cho was biting her lip as she gathered her change and her new mitts and walked down Diagon Alley. If she started crying in front of Mister Gridpipe, he might not understand how happy she really was.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 48, wherein Cho watches the World Cup, is taught an unexpected lesson and sees her parents in a completely different light 


	48. A Quidditch Summer 2: The World Cup

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
48. A Quidditch Summer 2: The World Cup  
  
The closer the time drew toward 5 p.m., the more nervous Cho got. There were hardly any customers in the shoppe the past few days, but she hardly paid attention to them anyway. She was waiting for this moment: the closing of the shoppe on Friday, the 22nd of August, 1994 . . .  
  
The number of customers had been tapering off daily, until Cho seldom had to wait on more than one person per hour. Of course, as many as could go were leaving Diagon Alley to attend the World Cup match. The Friday afternoon was so slow that Cho wondered why they couldn't just close early.  
  
Of course, as soon as the thought crossed her mind, an old hag came into the shop, followed a few minutes later by a fairly good-looking young mediwizard. The hag dawdled over the gentian root, arguing about its freshness with Cho until Mrs. Chang heard the commotion and took over for Cho. The mediwizard, meanwhile, was simply purchasing bulk herbs for St. Mungo's because it was his turn on the rota, and he clearly thought the business of buying supplies was beneath him. "There are places I'd rather be," he muttered impatiently to himself.  
  
Same here, Cho thought, and I hope I don't see you there.  
  
Finally he and the hag paid for their purchases and the door onto Diagon Alley closed at 5:10 p.m. At once Cho drew down the shade and put up a sign:  
  
GONE TO THE WORLD CUP WILL REOPEN WEDS THE 27TH  
  
Cho dashed upstairs to find Lotus already bustling about. Their tent had been packed long before, and most of their personal items would fit into a haversack Cho would be carrying. While her parents were finalizing the packing, Cho went down to the kitchen and set out food and water for Chairman Miao, and enchanted it to last five days without going stale.  
  
"I wish you could come along," Cho said as she scratched the cat behind the ears, "but it's going to be so wild and so crowded. Besides, I've never really heard you express an opinion on Quidditch. So tell me: who do you think will take the Cup?"  
  
The cat, being a cat, rubbed itself against Cho's ankles and walked out of the kitchen.  
  
"Almost time!" Cho's father called from the parlour. Cho gathered the haversack and ran out of the kitchen.  
  
Her father already had the Grendel model collapsible tent on his back. Her mother had a bundle on her back, similar but smaller, and another bundle tucked under one arm. "What's that, then, mummy?"  
  
"Later." She said it in her "end of discussion" voice, so Cho didn't give it another thought.  
  
Chang Xiemin opened his large pocket-watch and watched as a miniature earth orbited a miniature sun. "We have about ten minutes," he announced, and led his family out of the shoppe and down Diagon Alley.  
  
Now there were many witches and wizards in the street, all of them converging on the Leaky Cauldron. The front room of the inn was the terminus for a Portkey that would take them-in groups of about thirty-to the campgrounds near the stadium where the Quidditch World Cup finals would be played.  
  
In this case, the Portkey was a long piece of binder's twine. Everyone who was going pinched themselves a bit of twine.  
  
"Enjoy yourselves!" Tom the innkeeper called from behind the bar. "I'll follow along in a day or two. And tell the Irish to brush them Bulgarians all the way back to . . ."  
  
Cho never heard the end of the sentence, because the Portkey came alive, and all the people that were clutching onto it became detached from the world of Diagon Alley. They seemed to spin through a creation that had not yet settled when, after a few seconds, they came to a jarring stop. A voice called out:  
  
"Your attention please! The six o'clock p.m. Green Witch Mean Time Portkey from Diagon Alley has just arrived. Please clear the landing stage as quickly as possible."  
  
Cho had traveled once or twice by Portkey when she was very young, and, even though she'd gotten used to Porting to Puddlemere for Quidditch practice in recent summers, she felt a bit exhausted as she followed her parents off of the platform. They, however, looked more annoyed at the trip than anything else, and Lotus Chang seemed to clutch the bundle under her arm even more tightly.  
  
They got a map showing their campsite, paid the owner of the land (with Muggle money Cho's father had gotten from Gringott's days before) and walked down the lane in the gathering dusk. A small army of tents was already up, but it would double and redouble over the weekend. The Quidditch World Cup stadium was built to seat one hundred thousand, and on Monday night it would be absolutely full.  
  
xxx  
  
Pitching the tent had been easy. The Grendel came with self-driving stakes and a hinged frame that made it simple to erect a tent that, from all appearances, looked as if it could hold two cots and little more. Inside, however, it was a small but serviceable apartment, with two bedrooms, two baths, a front parlour and a kitchen. Lotus promptly started arranging things in the kitchen, saying, "You can muck about with campfires if you wish, but it's all for show and everyone knows it. In the meantime, you'll all have proper meals."  
  
The first night, those "proper meals" consisted of corned beef, potatoes and cabbage, with a loaf of fresh-baked soda-bread, in honour of the Irish Quidditch team making it all the way to the Finals. Stepping onto the road after dinner made Cho think, between the food and the sights and sounds of the campground, that they'd actually traveled to another country. She could hardly wait to explore it the next day.  
  
However, she overslept. When she finally awoke, she had to endure her mother's arguments as the two of them cooked a late but sumptuous breakfast. To make it worse, she couldn't leave to explore the camp until she'd cleaned the breakfast dishes. But once she was on the path looking at the other tents, she knew it was all worthwhile-even her mother's withering insults. She had thought that she couldn't see witches and wizards more unusual than those she saw back in China last year; she was wrong.  
  
One group of Spanish brujos were sitting around a gigantic pot of what turned out to be mulled Muggle wine with herbs and fruit-a mix the brujos called "sangria", meaning "blood". One of the brujos was playing a guitar, and most of the others were singing. Further down the lane, some Black American wizards were trying on robes that reminded Cho of band uniforms, while a collection of brass instruments polished themselves; apparently, there would be a concert or parade at sunset. Even further down, just at the edge of the wood that separated the campground from the stadium, some wizards from the Amazon River listened impassively as representatives from the Ministry of Magic tried-in several languages-to explain that they could not wear their traditional clothing-which, in their case, meant wearing nothing at all.  
  
Each step took Cho further and further away from her parents, but she couldn't help herself; everything was just so fascinating.  
  
She finally reached the edge of the camp, although the spaces were still being filled even as she watched, and turned back. She hadn't gone twenty paces when she heard the clear, pure baritone:  
  
"We twa hae paidl'd in the burn,/Frae morning sun till dine . . ."  
  
She looked around and saw a small tent painted to look like the Welsh flag. She ran over to it, noticed that the canvas felt more like wood under her hand, and rapped on it with her knuckles.  
  
"Is that you in there, Mackie?!"  
  
The flap opened and Macarthur "Mackie" Culligan, former Quidditch captain and Seeker for Ravenclaw, stepped out of the tent, looking delightedly at Cho.  
  
"View halloo! Whose little Seeker are you?!" he laughed, and she laughed, as he picked her up and spun her around, almost over his head. She sounded almost exhausted as he set her down.  
  
"Roger said you had to leave school," Cho began.  
  
"So, so," Mackie nodded, "had to go and build up the family fortune. But we're doing all right. Everything should be settled in a few more years."  
  
"It would be funny if we were in the same year in uni," Cho laughed.  
  
"No, what's funny will be me feeling like a geezer at the extreme old age of twenty-three."  
  
"Has Roger been telling you about the team?"  
  
"That he has, and he also tried to tell me how beautiful you've become, but he's clearly fallen short there."  
  
Beautiful???  
  
"Sometimes he acts so addle-pated that he . . . He HAS told you this, hasn't he?" Cho shook her head no. "Oh, damn. Look, forget I said a word, can't ye?"  
  
"Mackie, I can't, not now! If Roger . . ."  
  
"Look, if he hasn't told ye, then I can't be the one!"  
  
"Is he coming?"  
  
"We're supposed to meet up tomorrow night. Cho, please, you can't let on I said anything."  
  
"I-I'll try."  
  
With that, he ducked back into the tent. Cho wandered back to her parents' campsite, hardly looking at the others along the way.  
  
"CHO! Where have you BEEN!"  
  
She'd almost walked past her own campsite without seeing it. Without a word, she turned, went into the tent and started helping her mother with dinner.  
  
As they ate, Cho kept turning the conversation with Mackie over in her mind. Finally, halfway through pork chops with hoisin sauce, she set down her fork. "Mummy, if I were beautiful, would you tell me?"  
  
The question caught both her parents by surprise. While her father blushed, her mother's expression didn't change a bit: "I would hope that you're too mature to put much stock in that sort of nonsense."  
  
That was the answer: not exactly a "no", but close enough. She got up from the table and went into her room, slamming the door. Her parents didn't see or hear from her until the next morning.  
  
xxx  
  
Nonsense!? How can she say that?! This is important!  
  
Isn't it?  
  
I mean, if Roger thinks -- But Roger said -- When I started, Roger -  
  
Why now? Why does this have to be important NOW?! I wanted to wait until I was a Seventh-Year, maybe put it all off until university . . . What do I do?  
  
Roger Davies was the smallest part of the equation, unfortunately. Cho turned it over and over in her mind, and always came down to the same answer:  
  
No matter how Roger might feel about her, she could never feel that way about him. He was a friend, a coach, and that was all. Nothing more.  
  
But what now? Will he get upset? Will he kick her off the team? Yes, it's petty, and she couldn't imagine Roger Davies being that petty, but one never knows . . .  
  
xxx  
  
Sunday morning saw a little bit of rain fall onto the camp. Cho was glad she had a warm bed and a warm comforter, and a window she could look through to see the neighboring tents without their seeing into hers.  
  
She missed her cat.  
  
The skies didn't clear until noon; without breakfast, without a word to her parents, she was out and down the path exploring again.  
  
The camp had almost doubled in size since yesterday evening. The tents became larger, more colourful. Flags painted onto tents was common, but so were actual dioramas of Quidditch matches, painted directly onto the canvas of the tents. Of course, any Muggle who saw it would be at best hopelessly confused; but then, how could any Muggle ever get into a wizard gathering of this size?  
  
She sought out Mackie, and they sat and talked for two hours, like old combat veterans remembering the trials by fire and the moments of glory. Mackie recalled Snitches he had the most trouble winning, or never won at all; Cho recalled her unofficial game against Slytherin. And neither brought up what Mackie had let slip the day before. They both spoke around it, like hunters pacing in front of a cave where a deadly animal might-or might not-be lurking. Neither wanted to risk themselves twice.  
  
As twilight gathered Cho started walking back toward her family camp, and she heard, consciously heard for the first time that weekend, a baby's cry. She had not really forgotten the fundamental truth of life in the magical world: that witches and wizards are born, not taught. But the cry reminded her of how many wizards might be here who were still too young to even realize they are wizards. And she was reminded of perhaps the most famous wizard baby of all, and kept an eye on the crowd that milled around her. As if she were Seeking a Snitch.  
  
A black-haired, green-eyed Snitch.  
  
Cho was talkative at dinner, but the talk was light and airy; of sights seen and people recognized. There was nothing of importance, and again nothing of the topic that had driven yet another wedge between herself and her mother.  
  
Just after sunset, when the dinner dishes were disposing of themselves, Cho stood with her parents, watching a fireworks display of dragons battling among the clouds, and wondered why life had to be so awful and so wonderful all at the same time.  
  
xxx  
  
Monday morning, the day of the Cup, Cho did not oversleep. She was awake with the first hint of dawn, reaching for her Hogwarts bedside table to grab a hairbrush that wasn't there. It had been weeks since she flew, and now her body almost instinctively wanted to suit up for a Quidditch match.  
  
Rather than disturb her parents, she tiptoed out of the tent, and out onto the campground. It had grown again during the night, and was now a city of tents, of all possible shapes and colors (and a few impossible ones as well). Banners flew in the air, and so did a few brooms. Excitement was also in the air; the anticipation felt by all of these wizards and witches that some top-quality Quidditch would be played here in a few hours' time.  
  
Cho now regarded the tents closest to her family's as old neighbours, exchanging pleasantries with them as she walked down the path to a small rise.  
  
Where she saw him.  
  
Surely all she had to do was to keep walking among the hundred thousand people come to watch the match, and she'd bump into someone from Hogwarts; it was strange, though, that so far she'd only met Mackie, and he'd already graduated. If she'd seen wizards who were younger, she didn't recognize them.  
  
But you couldn't help but recognize Ha Li Po Te.  
  
There he was; the rumpled black hair, the green eyes behind thick glasses, the body only slightly taller than her own-built for a Seeker. They were on separate paths that would meet up ahead-perfect! She waved.  
  
He waved. Actually, he was so enthusiastic that he looked like a castaway on a desert island trying to hail a ship at sea. In itself, that wouldn't have been so bad, but, while he violently waved with one hand, the other held a bucket of water he'd gotten at a nearby tap. Quite a lot of the water slopped out of the bucket and onto the ground-and Harry.  
  
To cover his embarrassment, Harry tried to steer his companion-one of the Weasleys-down the path. Cho, meanwhile, had happily clapped her hands over her mouth and ran back to her parents' tent. They were standing in front, looking over the army of tents.  
  
Lotus Chang regarded her daughter critically. "What's got you in this mood?"  
  
"Just saw the most powerful wizard in the world, is all, mummy. I saw Ha Li Po Te."  
  
"Really?!" She started looking about. "Where is he? What does he look like?"  
  
"You go down that road about a hundred yards, and look for a boy with black hair and green eyes-WHO LOOKS LIKE HE JUST WET HIMSELF!" The incongruity of the image was finally too much for Cho; she burst out laughing and ran into the tent.  
  
xxx  
  
As the excitement grew in the camp, Cho's parents seemed more and more intent on keeping their own excitement in check-and that of their daughter as well. During lunch, she was told repeatedly to "Remember your manners", "Be sure to bow when you're introduced", "Don't interrupt anyone speaking to your father", and especially "Don't wander off".  
  
Cho thought that the last part, at least, would be easy. She'd already wandered around the campsite for two days, and had seen so much. But she was wrong. When she went out, wearing her school robes and walking behind her father in his three-piece Savile Row suit and her mother in a Vera Wang pantsuit, she just kept marveling at all that the wizarding world still had to offer.  
  
But the Changs never stopped to look at the really interesting things, like the assortment of Ukranian hags who were boiling something alive in front of their tents; the Japanese wizards who all wore identical short cotton robes and invited all passers-by, even Cho, to drink with them; or the Dervishes who, according to Madam Trelawny, spun themselves into dizzying trances.  
  
Instead, Cho had to stand behind her parents as her father collared first one business associate and then another. Since there was no Quidditch being played yet, he probably figured that he could put the time to good use. He seemed to know which wizard was in which campsite, and seldom found a site where his quarry wasn't there. He spoke mostly with other Diagon Alley merchants, and sometimes with wizards from the Ministry.  
  
One of the latter was of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures: Mr. Amos Diggory, who kept his son Cedric standing behind him. Cho and Cedric knew each other, both being Seekers at Hogwarts, but they were expected to keep quiet and stay still while their fathers settled important matters of business.  
  
After about ten minutes of waiting, Cho silently brought one arm up, started licking the back of her hand then rubbing her face with it, like a cat grooming itself. Cedric turned his head, to keep from laughing out loud. Amos Diggory caught the movement and turned. Cedric struggled to hide his grin. Mister Chang turned back to look at Cho, whose face was perfectly composed.  
  
Fortunately, this was their last stop; it was time to go back to the tent and change, then head over to the stadium. The mass of people grew and grew as they made their way from the tent to the woods, and then through the trees to the golden stadium. Design of the stadium had begun shortly after the previous World Cup, three years earlier. Construction had taken most of the past year, and yet, as soon as the match was over, the magnificent stadium in the middle of the moors would be taken down in a matter of hours.  
  
The crowds were so intent on watching the match that Cho hardly dared look around; if she saw someone she knew, such as Professor Flitwick or Madam Malkin, she barely had time to call to them or wave before the tide carried her along. After a while, all she could do was follow along behind her parents. They led her to what turned out to be excellent seats: near the center of the field, and just below the goals. Now that they were in the stadium, though, the crowd just seemed to get louder and louder. They were here for one reason-to watch Quidditch-and it was finally about to happen.  
  
xxx  
  
Sometimes the Quidditch World Cup is remembered for a spectacular play or other, such as the innovations of the great Polish Seeker Josef Wronski. Sometimes the less savory nature of the play makes the games memorable, as in 1473, when the first Cup match between Flanders and Transylvania produced what is still a legendary number of fouls on both sides.  
  
The 1994 Quidditch World Cup, however, will be remembered for both the game and what happened after the game. Depending on which book you read, 25 August 1994 is either "The Night of the Irish Miracle" or "The Night of the Dark Mark".  
  
The pre-game display by the teams' respective mascots were also disruptive, but carried far fewer repercussions. Leprechauns scattered enchanted (and therefore worthless) gold about, while Bulgarian veela tempted many of the males in the stadium with feminine charms and promises of bliss-even though the Ministry's Department of Magical Games and Sports had repeatedly asked the Bulgarians to substitute a different mascot, given the wizarding children who would be in attendance. The Bulgarians either did not understand, or acted as if they didn't. In any case, the veela's displays were subdued-just barely.  
  
The "Irish Miracle" is a safe way to describe the play between Bulgaria and Ireland. These two top teams had to conquer other mighty septets to get to the Finals; both teams intended to play hard and long, and to spare nothing to win.  
  
Cho had gotten used to the pace of play at Hogwarts; when the whistle sounded, it was as if these were players from another planet. She realized that she had come a long way indeed toward her goal of becoming a Seeker- and that she still had a very long way to go.  
  
Still, it was instructive to watch Bulgaria's Viktor Krum, playing on through a broken nose, using the Wronski Feint to good effect against Ireland-and making a global fool of himself by catching the Snitch when the Bulgarians were 160 points down. When he ended play, they still came up short. Viktor Krum handed the victory to the Irish.  
  
It seemed only fair to Cho, since Krum had rendered the Irish Seeker unfit for play. Twice Aidan Lynch had fallen for the Wronski Feint; and twice his screaming dive had sent him crashing into the pitch-one time, with the Bulgarian veela mascots trampling him before the mediwizards could get him up. Lynch couldn't even take the victory lap on his own. Cho's mother spent the rest of the evening muttering darkly to herself about "permanent damage" and Lynch probably having to live out his life at St. Mungo's.  
  
But Cho knew better; she knew a sensible Seeker could find a way around even the Wronski Feint. And, as soon as she got back to the tent, she lit her wand, conjured parchment and quill, and started to solve the problem herself.  
  
xxx  
  
Still, even the best intentions cannot keep one alert at all times, and Cho's head began to nod by half past one in the morning. She rested her head in her arms and swore it would only be for five minutes-she was so close to it-when she was woken up out of sleep by her mother shaking her shoulder.  
  
"Pack everything! NOW!"  
  
Cho was used to her mother giving orders, and she knew not to be slow about carrying them out. However, this time Cho had to stay in her chair for a second, staring at her mother's face. She saw something there she'd never seen before:  
  
Fear.  
  
Cho couldn't put two thoughts together as she gathered everything she could find and packed it all in the haversacks. Finally, with the tent cleared out if not cleaned up, she stepped out onto the path, where her parents were waiting. Her father, still in a dressing gown, collapsed the tent with his wand, and took it upon his back. He was sweating, but not from the heat.  
  
Cho then noticed that her mother only had a pack upon her back, the other mysterious parcel was missing. "Mother . . ."  
  
"Get into the woods!" Mister Chang pushed his wife and daughter along the path into the woods that separated the campground from the stadium. Almost everyone else seemed to be running away-away from . . .  
  
Now Cho could make out four people being held aloft by magic; four people tossed and tumbled as if they were ants. Cho couldn't say a word, but looked to her father for understanding.  
  
"They're doing it," he said simply, as he pointed up to the sky.  
  
At first she saw what she thought was a fireworks display, but no fireworks ever tried to make people feel fearful and nauseous. This design, of a skull with a snake crawling through the skull's open mouth, held a kind of sick power that Cho instinctively knew was not right.  
  
"I thought you'd never see this," Mister Chang told Cho, "but there it is. Now look at it! Remember it! That's the Dark Mark, the symbol of the Dark Lord. If you ever see that sign in the sky, run away from it; run as fast as you can! And if you ever meet anyone-ANYONE-with that mark branded into their flesh, then kill them! Kill them, Cho, before they kill you, because it will surely come to that."  
  
"But what do we do now?"  
  
"We're going home."  
  
"But the Portkey . . ."  
  
"There's no time!" her mother interrupted. "Just hold on tight, and don't make a sound!"  
  
She grabbed onto both parents' shoulders, while they put their arms around her waist. That was when Cho noticed their shoes. They were wearing something she'd never seen before. They looked ancient, Chinese, like shoes made of woven reeds.  
  
Mister and Missus Chang glanced at each other, then they started muttering an incantation in a dialect far older and stranger than any Cho had ever heard. They stamped upon the ground with their left feet, then stamped with their right feet. They stamped again with their left-  
  
and Cho found the three of them suddenly hurling straight up into the night sky. In an instant the tops of the trees, the top of the stadium, the Dark Mark itself, were all glowing beneath them as they rose higher and higher, actually into the clouds.  
  
Cho's mother needn't have worried; Cho's mind had locked up and she couldn't move a muscle or utter a sound, except to think, "So THIS is Chinese cloud-riding!"  
  
In what seemed only a minute, they reached the top of their arc, where, poised for a second, they could see almost all of England laid out at their feet. Then they began their rapid descent. They dropped down and down through the air, faster and faster-  
  
until they softly landed at the front door of their shoppe in Diagon Alley.  
  
Cho's father opened the door to the shoppe, while Cho, who was still trembling and couldn't speak, was helped inside by her mother. Her mother handed her a mug of tea; Cho vaguely recognized the smells and tastes of ginseng and chamomile. Once she'd finished the tea, her mother helped her into bed, where she slept dreamlessly for twenty-four hours.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 49, wherein Cho finds out that her Fifth Year will be unimaginably different  
  
A/N: In this episode we finally see a bit of Chinese magic. If you're interested, one of China's great magical tales is available in the west in the book "Monkey", retold by David Kherdian. 


	49. The Fifth Year Begins

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
49. The Fifth Year Begins  
  
A heavy rain started falling over London on the last day of August, and gradually got worse and worse. By the morning of 1 September traffic was tied up worse than usual, and some of those struggling to get to King's Cross to catch a train at eleven o'clock were tempted to throw caution to the winds, forget about Muggles and secrecy, and Apparate or ride brooms or do anything else that would get them through the mess.  
  
Cho was, as usual, in a taxi with her father; her trunk and a caged Quan Yin were in the boot. Her father tried to speak to her once or twice; she ignored him, and he let it go at that. He knew why she was upset.  
  
Cho rushed onto Platform Nine and three quarters without so much as a look back. She loaded everything into an empty compartment and shrunk into her seat, as if not wanting to be seen.  
  
As she looked through the window at the platform, she saw Harry Potter struggling with his own luggage and those whom Cho recognized as his closest friends: Hermione Granger (who, like Cho's friend Penelope Clearwater, had been frozen by the basilisk) and Ron Weasley (intended victim a few months earlier of the Sirius Black attack). Here and now, struggling through the crowd and the damp with their luggage, they seemed like just three more students. There was nothing particularly awesome about being Harry Potter now, or even being his friend.  
  
Some others from Cho's year took seats in her compartment: Linda Fairweather, Libby Foggly and Raina al-Qaba. It wouldn't stay this way, of course; once the train was rolling, once lunches had been eaten and things had otherwise settled down, students would move from compartment to compartment all up and down the train: seeking out friends, comparing notes on the summer, speculating about the new school year which would begin that night.  
  
Cho made polite conversation, talked about the World Cup with others who were there, wondered again (as they all had when they received their letters) why they would need formal robes this year, and talked about everything except what was most on her mind. Finally, in the third hour of the trip, Cho excused herself and stepped into the corridor. The storm outside the windows was too much like the storm within her.  
  
xxx  
  
It had all started two days earlier, as Cho and her mother were closing the shoppe. "Mother, you never answered my question."  
  
Lotus Chang must have realized that Cho was upset. Any time Cho said "mother" instead of "mummy", something was wrong. "Which question?"  
  
"Would you tell me if I was beautiful?"  
  
"This is not the time or place for you to worry about such things." Lotus turned and walked up the stairs to their apartment.  
  
This just made Cho angrier. "Then tell me the right time and place, so I can make an appointment!"  
  
"You have no right to talk to me that way!"  
  
"What am I supposed to do when you won't talk to me at all?!"  
  
"Not about this!"  
  
"Why not? Why should it bother you that I might be beautiful?"  
  
"You have no idea what you're saying . . ."  
  
"Are you trying to stop something from happening? If you are, then it's too late!"  
  
Until now, Lotus had been bustling around the kitchen, trying to prepare dinner, and avoiding eye contact with Cho. Now, however, she froze in her tracks and turned to Cho with a severe gaze. "Too late for what?"  
  
"A friend from school. I met him at the World Cup. He said it; he said I was beautiful." Cho was stretching the truth a bit; she didn't ever meet Roger at the World Cup, but was just reporting back what Mackie had said.  
  
"The smart thing for you to do would be to forget he ever said it."  
  
"But why?! What's wrong with being told . . ."  
  
Her mother cut Cho off. "Because you can never be beautiful here!" Lotus grabbed Cho's wrist, pulled her into the parlour, and slammed the door. "You want to know about beautiful? You really want an answer?"  
  
"You refuse to say anything!"  
  
"Because I know the answer will hurt you. Do you really want me to go on?" Cho was surprised by this response but nodded. "Then believe me when I tell you: if anyone here says you're beautiful, they don't believe it."  
  
"How can you know that?"  
  
"Because I'm not fifteen years old. I've already lived the life you're starting to live now. I know that, when a boy that age tells you that you're beautiful, he's going to follow that with a question. And he won't be asking for help with his schoolwork! So he tells you you're beautiful, not because he believes it, but to get you to give in to him."  
  
"But how do you know he doesn't believe it?"  
  
"THIS is how I know!" Lotus picked up a copy of Witches Weekly and threw it at Cho's feet. "And THIS is how I know!" She threw another magazine, and another. She threw seven magazines at Cho's feet. All the cover models were complaining about being tossed around.  
  
And all of them were white.  
  
"Don't you understand yet, little Horse? They are beautiful here; you are foreign. Even though you were born here and never knew any other home, you're foreign. You can be exotic, maybe mysterious, but you will never be beautiful in their eyes; just different. They may use you to satisfy some curiosity, or to break some rules, or to upset someone's parents, but in the end they'll walk away and leave you on your own."  
  
"This is-you are-so very WRONG!" Cho shook her head, even while the truth of her mother's hard words sank in. "There are-I have friends who-they're not like that."  
  
"They will be. I wish they weren't, but they will be."  
  
"You don't know! What about . . ."  
  
"Yes? You were going to name someone?"  
  
"HA LI PO TE!"  
  
Lotus stopped at that name out of reflex. Actually, there was no reason not to think of him as just another boy his age, but, rather than concede any point to Cho, Lotus turned and walked out of the parlour.  
  
"I'm right, aren't I You know I'm right!!"  
  
Lotus didn't acknowledge Cho at all as she went back into the kitchen. Furious, Cho ran to her bedroom and slammed the door. She didn't come out again the rest of that day, only a few times the next day, and didn't speak a single word.  
  
xxx  
  
After two days, Cho stood trembling in the train's corridor, the battle still unresolved. Everything her mother said was mean and narrow-minded and an insult to the students Cho had lived with and studied with for years- and yet there was more than a little truth in what she said. Could she really trust anything that any boy said about her?  
  
"Hullo, Miss Kitty-cat!"  
  
Down the corridor stood Cedric Diggory, already in his school robes. He smiled as he walked toward Cho, who couldn't help but smile also. "What was the point of that pantomime at the World Cup?"  
  
Cho chuckled as she remembered. "I'd been trailing along behind my parents for two hours at that point, while my father made business calls. I was fed up with it, I had to do something, and I thought you'd appreciate it."  
  
"Well, I did, but my dad didn't. After you left he, well, never mind. What did you think of the match?"  
  
"It was thrilling, of course, and very humbling. I still have a lot of work to do before I can be that good a Seeker."  
  
"We both do."  
  
A silence in which the two Seekers looked at each other and felt awkward. Cho started to say something, just as lightning struck outside the train, the flash blinding them both for a second and the thunderclap deafening the entire train.  
  
Before Cho could say anything else, a compartment door swung open. "Cedric! Come in here! You've got to tell us about your summer!"  
  
There was a group of Hufflepuff girls inside the compartment. The one who spoke was Hannah Abbot, a Fourth-Year. Blonde hair, rosy pink cheeks, blue eyes.  
  
Beautiful.  
  
Cho muttered, "It's all right, don't mind me," as she turned and walked quickly up the corridor. Hannah probably hadn't meant anything by it, but the fact that she could pull Cedric out of the corridor as if Cho wasn't even there-  
  
Well, Cho thought, there's still Quidditch. This reminded her of a much happier thought, and she started down the corridor, looking into compartments. She soon found who she was looking for: members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. She could talk with them about Quidditch, about the Cup, about Ireland and Bulgaria, and not have to worry about her mother's words.  
  
Quidditch, after all, had its own beauty.  
  
xxx  
  
Quidditch lightened the rest of the trip for Cho, in spite of the rain pelting down harder and harder, and the lightning strikes and thunderclaps becoming more and more frequent. She hardly noticed, even as she and the teammates got soaked making a dash for the carriages that would take them to the castle. They kept up their talk right up to the Sorting of this year's students, and even resumed the talk during dinner: talk of the Cup, and Aidan Lynch (who, while not exactly an incurable at St. Mungo's, was certanly lost to the game for the next three months at least), and whether Gryffindor would be vulnerable now that Oliver Wood was graduated.  
  
Yes, she's my mother, and yes, she's older, Cho thought, but she just doesn't understand. She tries to push me away from Quidditch, and she doesn't see that it's my life-line. Seekers don't have to worry about bring beautiful; all they have to do is catch the Snitch. And now, here it is my Fifth Year, and I take my first O.W.L.s in the spring, and I'll never be able to survive until then without practice once a week, and facing off against the other Houses, competing for-  
  
"The Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."  
  
I didn't hear that. I didn't hear what I just heard Dumbledore say . . .  
  
"I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely," the headmaster went on.  
  
Cho, however, was sure that she would sink through the floor, down into the Chamber of Secrets, there to rot with what was left of the basilisk.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 50, wherein Cho has a very uncomfortable talk with Roger, and thinks about Harry Potter, and thinks about thinking about Harry Potter 


	50. Someone Else

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
50. Someone Else  
  
Most of the Ravenclaws were chattering excitedly as they made their way to their House. Not only had the new school year begun, it included a dramatic surprise: the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Known only by reputation to most of the students, it was a legendary test of bravery and skill. It wasn't unusual in the old days for no trophy to be awarded at all, since none of the contestants had survived. It was a decisive, if extreme, test of magic between the three major European schools of wizardry.  
  
"Of course, that's old colonial-era thinking," Pablo Molina said as he came into the Common Room. "Look at all the academies that have sprung up all over the world since then. Academies in Asia and Africa and South America. You wouldn't think of having a tournament like that these days and not inviting them. But the Ministry likes to think it still runs the whole wizarding world-a very British, very white world."  
  
"Give it a rest," Vincent Krixlow answered back. "It's an old tradition. You start messing about with it, and it won't be an old tradition any more."  
  
"Besides, yeh won't have teh worry about it unless you're a Seventh Year." Jan Nugginbridge yawned. "Think I et too much tonight. Aren't yeh comin' up, Cho?"  
  
Cho had curled up in the day bed with Kenilworthy Whisp's biography of "Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn. "Not just yet."  
  
Cho sat there as most of the Ravenclaws went upstairs to the dormitories. She stayed in the day bed even when Letitia Groondy, who had been chosen Prefect, brought the First Years through, telling them a bit about the House and pointing out Cho as "the Ravenclaw Seeker."  
  
"Not this year, I'm afraid," Cho smiled from behind her book. Letitia noticed it was a sad smile.  
  
Cho watched as Letitia led the six new Ravenclaw witches up to their dormitory, and thought, To think I used to be that young; seems ages ago. She stayed curled up with the book for another hour. She held it, but hardly looked at it. She was waiting for what she hoped would be the worst moment of the year; better to get it over with.  
  
"Hullo, Cho."  
  
"Hi, Roger." She motioned for him to sit in a comfy chair across from the day bed.  
  
"What are you doing up?"  
  
"Waiting for you. I had a feeling you'd come looking for me. We missed each other at the World Cup."  
  
"Yeah. Well." Roger seemed more nervous than Cho could ever remember.  
  
"Roger, do they absolutely have to cancel Quidditch for the Tri-Wizard Tournament?"  
  
"Afraid so. I tracked down Madam Hooch after dinner and asked her. Apparently they're using the pitch for something, and it just won't be fit for matches this year."  
  
"Can't they rig up something? This year would be your last chance."  
  
"I know," Roger sighed. "It would have been nice to go out with a championship season. But I'm already on the Cup. And they're letting Seventh-Years try out for the Tournament. You think I have a chance?"  
  
"I'm sure you do," Cho smiled.  
  
"That means a lot, to hear that from you. I put a lot of store in your opinion, you know."  
  
Cho kept her smile but was shaking inside.  
  
"It's funny to think of it now, how much I wanted to keep you off the team when you first came here. If I had more sense, or maybe Madam Hooch had pushed a little harder, you could have done a Potter and gotten on the team in your First Year. But, anyway, you're here now."  
  
Cho nodded, waiting.  
  
"Well," Roger cleared his throat and started rubbing his hands together nervously, "anyway, there's no more Quidditch for me at Hogwarts. Seems so strange to be saying that. Just my N.E.W.T.s and maybe this Tri-Wizard thingy. But that's good. Gives me a chance to tell you something; something I've wanted to say for a while now, and I couldn't say it while I was your Captain."  
  
Here it comes.  
  
"So. Erm, Cho, we've been on the House team for a few years, and I watched you start out, and you were really just a kid then. But you played like it was the only thing you could do. Like there was nothing in the world but Quidditch. You don't see that too often. And, well, anyway, I've watch you grow as a player, but also as a girl. And I never thought I'd say this to anyone; believe me, it's caught me off-guard as well. But, well, the truth is, I think you're really beautiful, and-and I think I love you."  
  
There it was. Mackie had hinted at it a week earlier when he'd seen Cho at the World Cup. She'd been trying to figure out what to say since then, knowing that this moment was coming. Being a Ravenclaw, she'd come up with a dozen elaborate, sensible speeches, all aimed at letting Roger down easy, as they say. But now, everything she'd planned to say vanished, and all that came out was, "Roger, I'm so sorry."  
  
Roger just sat looking at Cho, looking as if someone had punched him in the stomach. "Is it-is it someone else?"  
  
"No! Roger, no!" Without thinking about it, she leaned forward, taking both his hands in both of hers. "I don't-there's nobody else, Roger. It's not that. It's just that, I don't feel that way about you. You're my captain, and a Housemate, and a very dear friend. I just can't feel anything past that."  
  
"Ah." Roger was quiet for a full minute. "Do you-do you think there's a chance?"  
  
Cho couldn't even speak; the words caught in her throat. She just shook her head, no.  
  
As she watched Roger's face, she could see the tears forming. This was exactly what I didn't want, she thought, please don't start, but now Roger was crying and Cho realized that she was crying and they fell into each other's arms, his head on Cho's shoulder and her head on Roger's shoulder, and they clung to each other for a few minutes.  
  
Finally, Roger pulled away from Cho and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robes.  
  
"Roger. I really don't want to lose you as a friend. Please don't think ill of me for this."  
  
"That-well, that won't be easy. I'll think about it."  
  
"Roger, I-I just don't know what else to tell you."  
  
"Yeh," he said as he stood up, "this is going to be some year. See you around." He turned and went up to the boys' dormitories.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho sat for another half-hour before she pulled herself together and went up to her dorm. By now she was used to finding her way through the room in the dark. Just as she reached her bed, she heard Jan whisper, "Is something wrong, Cho?"  
  
Cho started to answer that things were fine, but she couldn't. "Everything's wrong," she sniffled.  
  
"Get over here, then."  
  
She sat on the foot of Jan's bed.  
  
"Nah, come inside."  
  
Cho drew her legs onto the bed as Jan closed the curtains. "Lumos." Jan's wand, which had been under the pillow, glowed softly. "Out with it, now."  
  
"Jan, I feel just awful. There's a boy here, and he just told me . . ." Cho's tears started again. "The first time a boy ever said he loved me, and I had to say I didn't love him, and now we're both miserable."  
  
"Poor thing," Jan clucked. "Still, it has teh happen teh everyone."  
  
"But why? Why does it have to happen? None of us deserves to be miserable about it."  
  
Jan thought for a minute. "My oldest sister got married straight out of school, to a boy she was seein' for years before that. He got a good job in a Nimbus factory. They had a couple o' kids in short order, an' ever'thing was always fine with 'em. Then, when their youngest is five, she gets the flu real bad. Almos' died, she did. They took care o' her day an' night. Well, no sooner does she get better from that than my sister asks for a divorce. You want teh know what brought it on? She said it was 'cause one night he wanted teh sleep five more minutes before givin' a potion to the kid."  
  
"Was that really the reason?"  
  
"Nah, but it opened the door, you might say. After that, all sorts of other things come spillin' out; things they didn't never talk about." Jan reached out and took Cho's hand in her own. "We all make mistakes, even where love is involved, an' those mistakes jus' seem to hurt more'n the others. Maybe because yeh can't get it fixed in the hospital wing. But, the way I see it, you suffer early on so yeh can tell the big hurts from the small ones. That way, yeh don't end up doin' somethin' foolish like leavin' the one yeh love because o' five minutes sleep."  
  
Cho looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, for a minute. When she looked up at Jan, she was smiling. "You're very good at this sort of thing. Thank you, Jan."  
  
"Any time. Well, maybe not this late."  
  
Cho gave Jan's hand a quick squeeze, then slipped out of Jan's bed and got into her own.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho still couldn't get right to sleep. She hadn't wanted to lie to Roger; but then, she didn't really know if it was a lie. There couldn't really be a "someone else" if Cho hadn't yet said five words to him, could there?  
  
Cho spent the next hour going over all of the facts, in a thorough, Ravenclaw manner. She knew that, like every witch her age, there simply wasn't a time that she hadn't heard the name of Harry Potter. He was a legend by the time she could walk and talk. Because of what he had done, Halloween was now the celebration of the day he had vanquished the Dark Lord. You simply didn't live in the wizarding world and not have an opinion about Harry Potter.  
  
For Cho's part, her opinion was rather vague at first. Ha Li Po Te (as he was known around her household) had gotten himself muddled up with other historical wizards, whose faces were a blur and whose deeds were part legend and part guesswork. Harry Potter lurked in the same shadows of history as Merwyn the Malicious and Inglut the Inconvenient. He might as well have lived centuries ago, he was so unreal to her.  
  
That all changed in her second year at Hogwarts, for that was when Harry started attending. He showed up short and nervous, brilliant green eyes behind big glasses, and in a matter of days became a Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Broom-riding in general, and the fine points of Quidditch in particular, came to him as naturally as breathing. Cho, who wanted such mastery and worked for years to achieve it, saw that Harry was a "natural", but could not envy him. Instead she thrilled-along with the rest of Hogwarts-to his string of victories on the Quidditch pitch.  
  
If he could have stayed on the pitch, they might have been competitors and nothing more. But, on the eve of the finals for the House Cup, Harry had been struck down and laid for days unconscious in the hospital wing-struck down by Lord Voldemort, weakened but not gone, who failed a second time in his life to kill Harry Potter even as he killed Professor Quirrell.  
  
Cho had snuck into the wing to be sure that Harry would be unfit to play against Ravenclaw for the Cup-and, while she was there, she did a small and simple thing: she brushed a stray lock of hair off of his forehead. Small and simple, but a gesture which haunted her for months. It proved to her that Harry Potter was not merely a legend. He was real; he was vulnerable.  
  
That vulnerability hit home to Cho in her Fourth Year, when Harry was again hospitalized after his encounter with dementors during a match. She had come to the hospital wing to watch as he slept, except that his sleep was fitful, disturbed by memories of the death of his parents. This was too much vulnerability for Cho; it was too true. She felt she had seen a part of his soul that he wanted to keep hidden from the world. It made her feel even closer to him, but ironically made her wary of proceeding too far or too fast.  
  
But then, later that year, they faced off against each other, Seeker to Seeker, for the first time, and Cho tried to keep up with Harry. In the process, she started to become lost, to play a very different game: one in which she was the Seeker, but Harry Potter was the Snitch.  
  
It was a game she found she could play off the field as well as on it, and one into which she joyfully threw herself. The rules were simple: just bring Harry Potter, one way or another, into whatever was possible. As she watched the World Cup, she wondered what Harry would make of the Wronski Feint, and whether he would try to use it against her, and how she might counter it if he did. As she saw the downpour on her way to King's Cross, she wondered if Harry had an umbrella. As she passed by the Firebolt on display in Quality Quidditch Supplies, she remembered that she knew someone who owned this top-of-the-line broom.  
  
Knew? Perhaps not exactly. They had never spoken to each other, not even during their Quidditch match. But Cho was absolutely convinced that there was a bond between them. Quidditch was a bond, as was being a Seeker. All they had to do for now was smile and wave at each other, as they did at the World Cup-surely all of the other things would come in time.  
  
Other things? At this point, Cho was very glad that the other girls in her dorm could not see what she could see. But, whether she had managed to talk herself into it or not, whether she meant it to happen or not, Cho Chang started her Fifth Year at Hogwarts with a large unspoken crush on Harry Potter.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 51, wherein Cho and her classmates experience Professor Moody 


	51. Common Sense

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
51. Common Sense  
  
The Fifth-Year Ravenclaws had Defense Against the Dark Arts as their last class on Friday afternoons. The students never skived off, even if some of them didn't have a great deal of respect for Professor Alastor Moody.  
  
"I don't dislike him, exactly," Diana Fairweather was explaining before one class session late in October. "It's just that Professor Lupin had a way of laying out the information, explaining the uses of a spell and all. He didn't just hit you over the head with it."  
  
"Well, we know what he hit you over the head with; you still fancy Lupin, don't you?" Diana didn't answer Letitia's question, but started to blush. "It's a wonder we survived the year; a werewolf, indeed! That man was a menace."  
  
"Still, better than that fraud Lockhart," muttered Pablo.  
  
"But Lupin was about our parents' age; the fighting was mostly over when he came along," put in Libby Foggly. "Moody had to have seen the thick of it."  
  
"But that don't give him the right to act the Sergeant-Magus all the time." Vincent Krixlow was on his feet, limping exaggeratedly in front of the class. "So, Mister Krixlow," he said in a gruff and garbled voice, "you take issue with the way I teach this class. I have half a mind-and that's about all you need to be an Auror!"  
  
The others chuckled nervously, one eye on the door. They didn't like the idea of Moody walking in on the performance.  
  
Vincent, however, went on. "As you can see, I've also got half a face to go with the half a mind. I also got half a body . . ."  
  
"And if you don't sit it down now, I'll take my half a leg and kick you halfway across the lake."  
  
The others were amazed. Alastor Moody looked extremely slow and ungainly; yet he had slipped into the classroom unnoticed by all. Cho wasn't the only one who suspected that there may have been magic involved.  
  
"Now then; the Imperius Curse." He had been teaching the Hogwarts students about the three so-called Unforgivable Curses-permanently proscribed by the Ministry of Magic. He had announced that he would go so far as to use the Imperius Curse on members of the class, because "you have to know what it feels like. Just knowing the countercharm isn't enough."  
  
This didn't make a lot of sense to Cho,. But she couldn't decide what the problem was with Moody's argument. She sat back to watch what happened.  
  
"Now, then," Professor Moody said slowly as his odd eye scanned the class. "I'll tell you right now that I don't hold too much with Ravenclaws. You all think you can use your brains to get out of trouble, and most times that just gets you in deeper. Miss Fairweather!" he suddenly barked. "Front and center!"  
  
Diana Fairweather tried to keep from shaking as she stood in front of the class.  
  
"I've tried to read up on all of the students here. You're a half-and- half, ain't you?" She nervously nodded. "And you live among the Muggles, so you've had to keep the secret for years, right?" Again she nodded. Moody pointed his wand: "Imperio!"  
  
Diana's eyes suddenly went wide, as if she was afraid of something. She looked around at the classroom, waved to the empty air and said, "Excuse me!"  
  
Whoever she was speaking to seemed to pass her by without hearing.  
  
Diana tried again. "Please, sir, there's something I have to tell you!" Again, no reaction from the invisible listener.  
  
"Somebody, please listen to me! You have to listen to me!" The curse seemed to make her think she was standing on a street corner accosting the passers-by.  
  
"I have to tell you this!" she went on urgently. "I have to tell you: I'm a witch. My father's a wizard. We can do magic! There's thousands of us all over England!"  
  
The entire class squirmed as Linda was made to break one of the strictest rules of the wizarding world, by revealing their existence to the Muggles.  
  
"It's not a game; it's all real! We fly about on brooms and cast spells with our wands and brew up potions and all of that! You have to listen to me! Why won't you listen to me?!"  
  
"STOP THIS!"  
  
Moody broke off the curse as the class turned in surprise to Raina. She was on her feet, and they had never seen her so angry.  
  
"This isn't teaching; it's torture! You're just playing with her for your own amusement!"  
  
Moody walked slowly and unevenly up to Raina. She didn't give any ground even though he loomed over her.  
  
"You have me wrong, girl; this isn't about fun at all. It's about putting you in the worst possible place you can be-making you do the very things you don't want to do. Which is why you need the countercurse, and why you need to know what the curse feels like going in. You didn't notice anything at first, did you?"  
  
Diana was still frightened. "I-I don't remember."  
  
He turned back to Raina. "And don't you think the Imperius can make you want to tuck into a great fat ham sandwich, in spite of your religion?" Raina glared at Moody, who went on. "You just saw a half-and-half give up our entire secret world, even though she knew from birth she shouldn't do that."  
  
Cho surprised even herself by speaking up: "I agree with Raina. What you're doing has nothing to do with defense."  
  
Moody turned to Cho as if Raina was no longer there. "We're growing a feisty crop of Ravenclaws, it seems. You think you can do better than your friend here?"  
  
"I just think there's more than one way to resist."  
  
"More than will? More than constant vigilance? Fine. Imperio!"  
  
xxx  
  
Cho found herself flying, more than a hundred feet in the air. She couldn't remember the last time she was on her Comet Two Sixty, circling, swinging back and forth, now riding with the wind and now riding into it, tacking back and forth, completely at peace.  
  
Daddy once said they weren't sending me to Hogwarts to be a Quidditch player, and I try to keep up with my studies. But it's this that makes everything worthwhile. It's not just something I do well; I can work to get even better.  
  
Speaking of work, I'd better try out some new moves. The Starfish-that's one I haven't exactly mastered yet.  
  
So saying, she took hold of the broom with one hand, then rolled off to the side. She hung by one hand, spreading her arms and legs into a risky pose favoured by most professional Keepers.  
  
I know this is a Keeper move, but I'd better put as much into my bag of tricks as I can. I'll have to hold my own against Harry and Cedric and . . .  
  
Wait a minute.  
  
Why? You were right the first time; you need to practice.  
  
No, it's something about this year.  
  
Well, it'll be a tough one. You need to practice more than usual.  
  
But what else can I do besides a Starfish?  
  
I don't know. Well, maybe one thing.  
  
What's that?  
  
Freefall.  
  
But that would simply involve letting go of the broom.  
  
Yes.  
  
Sounds dangerous.  
  
Not really. When you fall, the broom falls too. It'll be right there by you. And if it drafts away a bit, use a Summoning Charm.  
  
Well, I suppose that sounds safe enough.  
  
Of course; perfectly safe.  
  
There's only one problem.  
  
Cho scrambled back onto the broom, stood up on the handle, jumped straight up-  
  
And landed on her feet in the classroom.  
  
Her classmates seemed amazed; so did Moody, although he tried to hide it. "I would like you to tell the class," he grumbled, "and tell me, just what you did to break out of the Imperius Curse."  
  
Cho explained the way the curse made her feel as if she was flying. "Then it suggested I let go of the broom; to kill myself, of course. But by then I'd remembered: I wouldn't even be on a broom this year, because there's no Quidditch this year on account of the Tournament. So I realized I wasn't on a broom, no matter what it felt like. The curse wanted me to kill myself, but, because I knew it was a curse, I could act contrary to what it wanted me to do. It seemed almost crazy, but it was all about common sense."  
  
"Actually, Miss Chang, all you've done is prove what I've been saying all along about constant vigilance."  
  
Cho seemed to want to keep debating the issue with Professor Moody, but she thought he might be bothered and start taking points, so she simply took her seat. The lesson was almost over, anyway.  
  
"Before you all take off," Moody said, "I'm supposed to remind you that next week's class will be a bit shorter. The Tri-Wizard Tournament students will be arriving from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang." Something about Moody's face changed noticeably as he pronounced that last word; as an Auror, he probably didn't think too highly of a school that reportedly placed a much higher emphasis on the Dark Arts. "You're all supposed to turn out and greet them, so class ends a half hour earlier. It'll all be posted. Get going, then."  
  
The students gathered up their books and bags and started up toward their dorm.  
  
The Fifth-Year Ravenclaws had Defense Against the Dark Arts as their final Friday class. As they headed toward the Great Hall, they passed near the dungeon where the Fourth-Year Gryffindors and Slytherins were having Potions. The classes usually let out at about the same time, and it was the one chance in the week that Cho could be reasonably sure that . . .  
  
There he was. Sometimes he'd appear to be having a pleasant conversation with some of the others from his year, especially the two that were closest to him, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Sometimes he looked depressed, or angry, or confused; Cho could understand. Having a class with Snape could easily leave you feeling all that, and worse.  
  
There were too many students, usually moving too fast, to allow her to say anything to Harry; but then, she wasn't really sure what she'd say if she had the chance. So she'd simply catch his eye-and it didn't take Harry too many weeks to realize, as she did, that they'd be in the same corridor on Friday afternoons. She'd smile, and sometimes wave, and he'd smile and sometimes wave. It wasn't much, but Cho began to look forward to it as a high point of her week.  
  
And maybe something to build on.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 52, wherein the foreign students arrive and the Champions are chosen 


	52. Three Schools, Four Champions

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
52. Three Schools, Four Champions  
  
The following Friday, at precisely half past five, classes were dismissed. Students didn't simply go back to their dorms; they dashed back in a mad stampede. Cho wasn't particularly in a hurry, but let herself get swept along back to Ravenclaw House.  
  
The tapestry and bookcase were already open, with students streaming in and out. She went up to her dormitory on the top floor of the girls' wing, pausing just long enough to watch the others toss down their bookbags and adjust their robes and, in some cases, their makeup. Cho didn't feel the need to do either; she simply went down to the Common Room. As soon as she came down from her dorm, she saw Roger Davies, who had just come down from his dorm.  
  
xxx  
  
The weeks after the first night of the new term, when Roger had blurted out his confession of love to Cho, was an awkward time for both. Cho hated the idea that she had caused Roger any pain; yet, it wasn't as if she had planned to hurt him. It was all his idea, after all, wasn't it; he apparently had been feeling something for some time now, and hadn't said a word about it. Serves him right, then.  
  
No; no, it didn't. He didn't deserve to be hurt; he was too good a person, too good a friend. But why was he acting like the victim of a national disaster?  
  
He spent all of September avoiding Cho, according to "Jinx" Jenkins, who was also Seventh-Year. "If he knows you're in the library, he studies in the Common Room," he told Cho one day. "And if he knows you're in the Common Room, he stays in the library or up in the dorm. He doesn't talk about it, not to me at any rate. But something's wrong, and it's got to be fixed."  
  
Easy to say, thought Cho, but how am I supposed to stop this? I didn't even want to start it.  
  
When Cho awoke, at sunrise on the first Saturday in October, she automatically started to go through the motions of getting ready for Quidditch practice. Roger had always called practice for Saturday morning. But then she remembered: Quidditch was off all this year. Well, thought Cho, so what if it is? It's been far too long since I've been on a broom. Besides, it won't hurt anything to take a look at the stadium-to see what they're going to do to it . . .  
  
So, before most of the other students were getting ready for breakfast, she had already dressed, gone down to the broom shed and retrieved her precious Comet Two Sixty. She almost rode it to the stadium, she was so impatient to fly again; instead, she ran as fast as she could to the stadium.  
  
When she got there, she saw that the goalposts had been taken down. So far, that was the only change in the stadium.  
  
She also saw Roger Davies slowly circling the field.  
  
She waited until he noticed her-which he did at once-and landed a few feet away from her. He didn't move toward her at first, didn't say anything.  
  
Cho was finally overwhelmed by the unfairness of it all. "Why are you doing this?!" she shouted at Roger. "You're trying to make me feel like a criminal, when all I did was tell the truth!"  
  
"Yeh," Roger snapped back, "which is all I did, too!"  
  
"But why can't you accept what I said? You act like it has to be all or nothing. Is my friendship worth so little to you?"  
  
"No, but I was hoping that your love . . ."  
  
"Is something I know next to nothing about! Roger, please, don't try to push me where you want me to go. I'll just end up trying to stand my ground, and neither one of us will be happy."  
  
Roger stood for a minute, glancing first at Cho, then at his own feet. Finally, with a half-smile, he said, "You've always been stubborn, from the first day I knew you."  
  
Cho also smiled a half-smile. "That's what comes of being born in a Year of the Horse, I'm afraid."  
  
After another minute, he took a couple of steps toward her. "Truth is, I've missed you this past month. I was afraid I'd driven you off of me for good."  
  
"And I've missed you. Can we go back to being friends?"  
  
"Thought you'd never ask," he smiled-his first real smile in a month. "Guess you came out to fly, too."  
  
"I was going mad without it."  
  
"Well, I'll leave you to it, then." Roger started to walk out of the stadium.  
  
"Roger!" He stopped at Cho's shout, and waited as she said, in a much softer voice, "Don't feel you have to rush off on my account."  
  
So the two of them mounted their brooms and started flying over the pitch, abandoned for this year, neither one saying a word, because what was important had already been said.  
  
xxx  
  
Now, as Cho faced Roger in the Common Room, she smiled and nodded toward the door. "Ready to check out your competition?"  
  
"Are they ready for Hogwarts, you mean?" he smiled back.  
  
At first nobody in Ravenclaw was sure whether Roger Davies would enter the Tournament, including Roger himself, but as the day grew closer he seemed more and more interested in trying for it. He certainly would have been on the short list of likely candidates from Hogwarts. As they had several times in the past month, Cho and Roger talked about that list as they made their way to the Great Hall.  
  
"There's Diggory in Hufflepuff," Roger was saying as they passed a suit of armour which someone had cleaned a little too zealously; all of its bolts had been over-tightened, and the armour fidgeted as it tried to loosen everything up again. "Prefect, Seeker, and there are some that say he's good-looking."  
  
"Well, if looks entered into it, there's Johnson of Gryffindor," Cho answered back. "Prefect and Chaser, although I don't know what either of them has done beyond that."  
  
"Good thing it isn't about looks, then," Roger chuckled; "I might still have a chance."  
  
"If it wasn't about looks, Crusty might have a chance, and we don't need that." Cho was talking about Crustaceous Warrington, a Seventh Year Slytherin Chaser who couldn't seem to break himself of the habit of pulling out his wand during a match and trying to hex the opposition. No matter how many times Madam Hooch fouled him out, he didn't seem to learn from it- or didn't seem to care.  
  
The entire student body was assembling on the great stone steps overlooking the lake. As the hour of six approached, they all kept glancing about, not sure what would happen.  
  
The first thing that happened was that a house seemed to fall out of the sky. Actually, it was a pale blue carriage as big as a house, drawn by golden horses twice the normal size. On the door of the carriage was the crossed wand insignia of Beauxbatons. But they didn't see the insignia for long; after the carriage landed-with a crash that made everyone think that a house had indeed fallen from the sky-the door flew open almost immediately. A young wizard, who couldn't have been older than Third Year, dressed in robes of some thin, shimmering material that was the same pale blue as the carriage, jumped out and fumbled with some steps.  
  
He then stood aside as a woman just as large as the carriage stepped out. She seemed to be the same size as Hagrid. She was dressed all in black, including black jewelry, all of which highlighted her dark-coloured skin.  
  
"Didn't think they grew 'em that big in France," Vincent Krixlow muttered as Hogwarts, led by Headmaster Dumbledore, applauded the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, Madame Olympe Maxime. She was followed out of the carriage by ten Seventh-Year students, all dressed in the same pale blue robes as the boy who put down the staircase. The girls, however, who were in the minority, kept their hoods up, as if they were used to warmer weather. Cho also noticed that one of the girls looked to be no more than a First Year, and was struggling to hide the fact that she seemed terrified. The boys, on the other hand, didn't seem athletic at all; they appeared to be on the sensitive side, and only a bit less nervous than the girls.  
  
"Don't see a Champion in that lot," Roger whispered to Cho. "They look like a stiff breeze would take them away."  
  
He stopped as the students headed for the castle; the Hogwarts students had to part to make way for them. No sooner were the Beauxbatons inside the castle when Lee Jordan gave a shout. Everyone's attention turned to the lake, where, barely visible in the gathering dusk, a large whirlpool had formed, and was growing larger and fiercer. Finally an old wooden sailing- ship rose up out of the whirlpool, casting its anchor into the lake.  
  
"This should be interesting," Vincent whispered again; "from fairy coach to Flying Dutchman."  
  
The ship let out a gangplank that reached to the shore, and the passengers (perhaps they also doubled as the crew) walked single file up to the steps. They were all bundled up in furs, but they weren't fur robes. These seemed to be pelts that had been stitched together any which way, giving them an appearance of being primitives, from a time before magic was discovered. The leader of this group approached Dumbledore. Cho recognized him from his picture in the Prophet last summer: he was Igor Karkaroff, who had come over to the World Cup with the Bulgarian team. A second later, Karkaroff was introducing one of the Durmstrang students to Dumbledore, and Cho wasn't the only one to recognize him:  
  
"Merlin on crutches!" Roger choked, trying not to say it out loud. "That's Viktor Krum!!"  
  
Cho could hardly believe it. Hadn't she heard that Krum was Seeker for the Vrasta Vultures when he was picked to play for Bulgaria? And he was still a student? Well, barely a student; he seemed a bit older than his peers. Maybe the academy waived the age limits for him.  
  
Cho was about to ask Roger about this when the crowd shifted, going back into the Great Hall for the welcoming dinner. She got swept along again. When she made her way to the Ravenclaw table, she found that the Beauxbaton team was already there, seated at one end. It was almost with a sense of relief that she saw the Durmstrang team sitting at the Slytherin table.  
  
This should make for a fascinating year, she thought.  
  
But even though Cho tried to catch the eye of the nearest Beauxbaton to her (the little girl) to try to start a conversation, none of them said a word to the Ravenclaws or even acknowledged their presence. They sat, waiting, looking rather distressed.  
  
"Wot's up wi' them, then?" Jan asked Cho, as if the Beauxbatons couldn't even hear her. "Do they expect the ghosts teh come an' take a bite out of 'em?"  
  
"Who knows what they expect?" answered Letitia Groondy. "Beauxbatons must have filled their heads with some incredible rubbish about us."  
  
The Beauxbatons suddenly jumped to their feet as their Headmistress entered the Great Hall; they didn't sit back down until she was seated. It reminded Cho of stories her parents had told about the Emperors of China in bygone centuries, and their lives of absolute power and terrible loneliness in the Forbidden City . . .  
  
Cho's thoughts were interrupted when one of the French girls, seated next to the youngest one, laughed insultingly at some remark from Dumbledore. Quite a few Hogwarts students who heard her, not just at the Ravenclaw table, looked at her with amazement, even hostility.  
  
"Well, now we know what the incredible rubbish is," Linda Fairweather whispered. "They must think they're the center of the wizarding world!"  
  
"They're in for a rude awakening," Roger replied. "From what I can see of this lot, they don't have a hope for the . . ." He stopped suddenly, as if his voice had been stolen.  
  
Cho immediately saw why. With Dumbledore's remarks finished and food on the table, the rude Beauxbatons girl had taken off her hood and muffler. Her hair was platinum-blonde, the same color as Draco Malfoy's, which was just one more reason for Cho to dislike her. But her hair was longer, fuller and straighter than Cho's, hanging to her waist. Cho'd seen that kind of hair recently, and the flawless skin and the deep blue eyes-  
  
Yes; at the World Cup! The girl got up, went to the Gryffindor table to get a tureen of soup, and some of the boys there froze, staring at her.  
  
She was a veela! A part-veela, anyway! How could a French witch have the blood of a Bulgarian creature? "Roger," she turned, "don't you think . . ."  
  
Roger was staring at the French girl, oblivious to Cho or anyone else.  
  
Part of Cho wanted to laugh, even though it wasn't funny at all. Indeed, this would be a fascinating year.  
  
xxx  
  
As soon as dinner was over, Dumbledore spoke again, officially starting the Tournament by pulling the Goblet of Fire out of an old chest. The goblet was made of wood, which was nevertheless not consumed by the fire burning within it. He stated that anyone age seventeen or older who wished to enter the Tournament should drop a paper with their name into the Goblet, which would name the Champions for each of the three academies the following night.  
  
Before Dumbledore's remarks were over, Roger was writing his name on a scrap of parchment. He made sure that his name was the first one into the Goblet of Fire.  
  
"Maybe I'll get points for eagerness," he said as he came back to the Ravenclaw table. "Anyway, that's over with. Just have to wait until tomorrow."  
  
xxx  
  
The waiting seemed harder for some than the Tournament would have been. It was a Saturday, so there weren't any classes to take up the time. It was Halloween, but not a Hogsmeade visiting day, so there was little to do but wait for the banquet that night when the Champions would be announced.  
  
Some students tried to cheat the Goblet, and it was amusing to watch them pay for it. The Sixth-Year Weasley twins, who were always up for practical jokes, had the tables turned as they sprouted beards-fully as long and white as Dumbledore's-when they tried to enter their names. But so did Archie Summers, a Hufflepuff Sixth-Year, and so did Fourth-Year Ravenclaw Sally Fawcett. She'd probably tried it to impress some boy or other; she was rapidly becoming notorious throughout Hogwarts. Both Vince Krixlow and Giulio Grimaldi hinted that she'd "shown them what it was all about," but never said anything more.  
  
"Pay them no mind," Libby Foggly said at the banquet that night. "They've been playing at being sex maniacs since their First Year. You can't take them seriously."  
  
Finally, when the banquet was almost over, Dumbledore extinguished most of the candles that lit the Great Hall, so that the Goblet of Fire cast its light over half of the room. Any time now, it would spit out the names of the Champions.  
  
"Good luck, Rog," Cho whispered.  
  
Roger just smiled and shook his head, as if he knew he wouldn't be chosen.  
  
The first name out of the Goblet was the Durmstrang's Viktor Krum. All the tables applauded his choice. Cho applauded politely; she still didn't like his performance as Seeker in the World Cup.  
  
While she was recalling his aggressive attempts to demolish the Irish Seeker, the goblet spit out another name: Fleur Delacourt of Beauxbatons.  
  
It was the veela. She sat at the Ravenclaw table for a minute, seeming to milk the applause for all it was worth, preening herself. Two of the Beauxbatons girls-who weren't veela-broke down in tears. Fleur acted as if she were Headmistress; as if she had every right to be Champion.  
  
"A veela and a ruthless Seeker," muttered Vincent. "Bet if you turn that Goblet over you'll see a winkle underneath."  
  
Cho couldn't help but giggle. The choices so far weren't that interesting.  
  
Whether by design or by accident, the Hogwarts Champion was chosen last; the suspense was almost unbearable. But when the third name appeared, the words "Cedric Diggory" was barely past Dumbledore's lips when the Hufflepuff table exploded in cheers and shouting. Cedric was being pummeled by everyone within reach. Madam Sprout, who was Head of Hufflepuff House, looked as if she'd burst from pride.  
  
Cho was glad. She liked Cedric well enough. They had a bond, both being Seekers and both paying midnight visits to the hospital wing to look in on friends attacked by the basilisk two years earlier. Well, she thought, better him than Crusty. Would have been nice to cheer for Angelina, but it wasn't to be. She glanced over at Roger, who had an odd smile on his face, and shook his head as if at some unbelievable piece of news.  
  
So that's two Seekers, Cho thought. They can have it; this Tournament doesn't sound like anything I'd wish on anyone. Not on Roger, even though he seemed to want it. Not on myself, certainly. Not even on-  
  
"Harry Potter!"  
  
What?!  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 53, wherein the competition starts in Hogwarts before the Tournament even begins 


	53. Cho and the Champion

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
53. Cho and the Champion  
  
"Right; how did he do it?"  
  
There can be no doubt what the topic of conversation was in the Ravenclaw Common Room on the night of 31 October, 1994. Harry Potter had done the seemingly impossible, and had his name chosen as the fourth Tri-Wizard Tournament Champion.  
  
"First of all, Roger," Cho spoke up at once, "you have to rethink the question. We don't know that Harry necessarily DID anything!"  
  
"How thick can you be?!" So said one of the Third-Years, a very defensive Muggle-born named Ronnie McGuffin. He didn't seem to realize that this was a serious insult, but kept on. "I mean, what night is this? The anniversary of the night that little Harry Potter stopped the Dark Lord. He must think that everyone's stealing his glory, so he trumps the only three people who are supposed to matter tonight."  
  
"All well and good, Ronnie, but for one mistake," answered Sixth-Year Girls Prefect Belle Candlewort. "I've been here for all four of Potter's years, and he's tried to excel at Quidditch, but he's never put himself forward as the Boy Who Lived. I've never seen him chase after glory for that."  
  
"Well, it seems to chase after him," Ronnie went on. "In his First Year, didn't he tangle with You Know Who again, even though he was attached to Professor Quirrell? Didn't he rescue a Weasley from the Chamber of Secrets the year after? And wasn't he supposed to be the target of an assassination attempt by Sirius Black the year after that? You think that was all just bad luck?"  
  
"All I know is this," Cho said, raising her hand to draw everyone's attention. "I happened to be looking at Harry when Dumbledore called his name . . ."  
  
"Exactly why was that?" Libby Foggly smirked.  
  
"That's unimportant!" Cho said as seriously as she could, considering that she had started to blush. "The point is, he was just as surprised as the rest of us. It wasn't an act, I tell you; he looked like he'd been popped between the eyes with a Bludger. He didn't know where to go or what to do at first. If he HAD planned this, would he have been so hesitant?"  
  
"Or it could be just more play-acting," Diana Fairweather said. "We may never know."  
  
"In the meantime," Roger Davies interrupted, "let's get back to how it could have been done."  
  
"I still think there was some kind of fraud," Terry Boot said. "Has anyone here not read 'Hogwarts-A History'"? There were some murmurs and general head-shaking. Apparently, no Ravenclaw would think of NOT reading the book. "In all the mentions of the Tournament, there's always been three Champions from three schools. Choosing a fourth Champion is just impossible!"  
  
"Rowena's Rule!" a dozen voices shouted out.  
  
"Since it's happened," Belle Candlewort smiled, "it obviously isn't impossible."  
  
"Then the Goblet made the mistake," Ronnie continued; "but how?"  
  
"Are we agreed that Potter couldn't have put in his own name?" asked Pablo Molina.  
  
"He couldn't possibly have done it," Sally Fawcett said, "and I ought to know." She had put her own name in for a lark, but, after crossing Professor Dumbledore's Age Line, she sprouted a bushy white beard.  
  
"What if the problem wasn't with the Goblet but with the Age Line?" suggested "Jinx" Jenkins. "I'm not saying anything against Dumbledore, but Potter does seem to be his pet, doesn't he?"  
  
Padma Patil shook her head. "Even if, and I don't grant it but for the sake of argument, even if Dumbledore cast an Age Line that said, 'Keep out anyone under the age of seventeen except for Harry Potter', how would he know that Harry would try to enter his name anyway? We all heard the same warnings. Surely he would have thought that he'd end up with a beard or something."  
  
"Not if he didn't step over the line!" said Terry Boot. "But what if he flew over it?"  
  
"Oh, this is too much!" Cho laughed.  
  
"Hear me out! Some say he's the best flier in the school-present company excepted-so why couldn't he get on his Firebolt in the dead of night, sail over the Age Line and drop his name in from above?"  
  
"Because I know that Hector Bosch-Burkington tried to do exactly that!" Fawcett countered. Hector was a Fifth-Year Slytherin she'd been "seeing" lately. "He rode his broom into Hogwarts, and his beard grew the instant he passed over the line, before he even got near the Goblet. That's why he dared me to try it."  
  
"No other reason, Sally?" Letitia Groondy smirked.  
  
""This is about Potter, not each other," Roger warned. "All I know is this: to this day, nobody knows how Potter managed to fox the Dark Lord as a baby. Both his parents were dead, and they weren't especially brilliant, as far as any of their surviving friends could remember. Does it stretch things too much to suggest that anyone with that kind of power might be able to also fox both an Age Line and the Goblet?"  
  
"If he's so powerful," Padma Patil countered, "why doesn't he use that power for something useful, like foxing the teachers? Parvati says his marks are pretty much average in all his subjects, and they always have been."  
  
"Let's just wait and see how this develops," Pablo said. "Potter may not even last until the First Task."  
  
xxx  
  
Pablo's words seemed odd, but soon Cho realized that they were accurate. Between Halloween and November 24, Cho saw what special pressures Harry was being subjected to by virtue of being the Fourth Champion. If her heart hadn't gone out to him before, it did now.  
  
Harry was becoming a pariah. Slytherin never liked Harry anyway, so there was no change there, but Cho hadn't realized until the discussion on Halloween night that there was such an undercurrent of resentment against Harry among some of the students in Ravenclaw. The Hufflepuffs were openly bitter about Harry upstaging Cedric Diggory, although Cedric never said or did anything to indicate that he was bitter. Even some of the students at Gryffindor, his own House, were turning against him.  
  
Cho watched as students made a point of avoiding Harry in the halls. After less than two weeks, badges started appearing at Hogwarts declaring Cedric Diggory "the real Hogwarts champion" in glowing red letters. But the badges were rigged with a second message, in green letters: "Potter Stinks".  
  
This truly upset Cho, so much so that, when she found herself anywhere near Cedric, she deliberately snubbed him. He has to know about those badges, she reasoned; if he didn't have them made, he at least tolerates them, and that's just wrong. If he doesn't say something, then he apparently approves. Fine, then; if those are his true colours, he doesn't deserve to be Champion.  
  
Unfortunately, she could only get a few others in Ravenclaw to see this. Some of them-none of the girls in her year, fortunately-wore the badges, but she very deliberately did not.  
  
On Friday 13 November, the day the badges appeared, Cho-who had already made up her mind about them-was in the library researching an assignment in Muggle Studies for Professor Idylwyld, when she heard a voice: "How do you like not flying, Chang?"  
  
She didn't have to turn around; she knew exactly who was sneering at her. "How do you like not losing, Malfoy?"  
  
Draco Malfoy, with Pansy Parkinson on his arm, walked into Cho's line of sight. "Have you seen these?" He flashed the badge from red to green and back.  
  
"You invented those, didn't you?"  
  
"How could you tell?"  
  
"It's rude, it's embarrassing, and it's green, so naturally I thought of you," Cho smiled.  
  
Both the Slytherins' eyes caught fire, but Madam Pince was just a couple of tables away, so they couldn't do more than glare and leave. Cho felt pleased and proud that she'd struck a blow for Harry.  
  
xxx  
  
But things got worse the next day, when the morning owls brought the Daily Prophet, with an article about Harry Potter. It was long, it was grotesque, it made Harry talk like no living Hogwarts student had ever talked.  
  
And from the first hour, everyone believed it.  
  
Cho had been reading the Daily Prophet for enough years to know which reporters to trust, and Rita Skeeter wasn't one of them. She played games with the facts, leaving some out and inventing others, writing in favor of one position one week only to turn around and condemn it the next. She had heard her parents talk about employees of the Ministry of Magic whose stars rise or fell according to her pen. She made heroes, then tore them down, and to Cho it seemed she did so only to prove that she had the power. Nobody benefited from any of this, except Rita Skeeter.  
  
So Cho read the massive article about Harry in the 14 November issue with more than the usual interest. Skeeter's version of Harry was like nothing that had ever been seen in Hogwarts. In the article, which stated at the end that the other Champions were "Victor Crumb" and "Flure DeLancourt" with no mention of Cedric, Harry sounded like the poor but noble hero of some novel by Dickens (for Muggles) or Prangboller (for wizards). Orphaned at infancy, he'd spent the rest of his life trying to keep his spirits up against overwhelming odds. The article claimed that Harry was in love with Hermione Granger (although Jan pronounced that there was "no Glow between those two, nary a bit"), that he was friends with the young camera fanatic Colin Creevey (although she'd seen Harry run from the Great Hall when Colin and his infernal camera came in), and that his rebellious streak led him to enter the Tournament (although Cho convinced herself, if not others, that Harry could not and did not enter).  
  
One paragraph talked about Harry missing his parents, and had him saying "sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it." Cho suspected that he was very much ashamed that it got into print, because it was true. It was true last year, at any rate, when Cho had sneaked into the hospital wing to look in on Harry after the disastrous rainstorm when he'd fallen off his broom. She saw him tossing and turning, crying out at the memory of the murder of his mother by Lord Voldemort. Cho had suddenly become self-conscious, not wanting Harry to know that she knew something so intimate about him-and now that cow Skeeter has splashed it all over the Prophet for all the world to see!  
  
Steady, Cho told herself. It's a terrible article, because of the way it mixes fact and fancy and makes you think it's all true when it's NOT! But just wait. It's Harry's article, after all, and he should have the last say.  
  
However, as the week progressed, it grew harder and harder for Cho to hold her tongue. Cho was brought up in a Chinese household that religiously read the works of Confucius. She grew up with the belief that men are governed poorly if a government relies on laws and force; the best way is to teach virtue and morality, so that men may govern themselves, without brutality and litigation. She was taught that the best way to teach others was to live a proper life and to hold one's tongue. Of course, this is hard for anyone at any time, but it's much harder if you're a girl born in the Year of the Horse.  
  
Cho tried for a week to ignore the "Potter Stinks" badges, the Daily Prophet article, the suspicious looks and talk from all quarters of the school. At last, though, on the Friday before the First Task, she lost her patience. Dark Arts had just ended, in which Professor Moody had taken great joy in describing some of the acts of sabotage committed in previous Tri-Wizard Tournaments. As they left the dungeon classroom to return to Ravenclaw, Cho had a quill in one hand, with the other balancing her book- bag as a writing-desk, while she copied the names of two student wizard Champions who laid waste with fireballs and hailstorms to a quarter of Breton France in 1397 before they were reined in.  
  
She finished writing, looked up, and froze as the Boy Who Lived passed by in the corridor, his Potions class with Snape and the Slytherins over. His brilliant green eyes stared straight ahead, not even seeing her.  
  
Cho knew that he must have just gotten out of the worst 90 minutes of the week. She knew the Slytherins would tease him mercilessly about the article, and that Snape would let them get away with it. In fact, it seemed to Cho that most of the school was against Harry, for one reason or another. It was up to her to even the odds.  
  
Only one problem, Cho realized. She had never had a conversation with Harry. Never.  
  
A sudden attack of nerves left her rooted to the step where she was standing. She saw Harry's black disordered hair vanishing up the steps. Act now, Cho, she told herself; it's your only chance!  
  
Before he took two more steps, Cho called up the courage to shout: "Hey! Harry!"  
  
As soon as she did so, Harry Potter stopped on the step, his body stiff as a board. He seemed to look up at the vaulted ceiling, and then he SCREAMED: "Yeah! That's right!" Others started moving away from him; he seemed to be throwing a fit. "I've just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I'm just off to do a bit more . . ."  
  
Harry turned as he said these last words. When his eyes met Cho's, he stopped, a look of absolute terror on his face.  
  
Cho, meanwhile, had a look of absolute terror on her face, as she thought, He knows! He knows I saw him! Her mind quickly recovered, saying, No, it's just Skeeter's article; get hold of yourself, Cho! She tried to speak, tried to think of something to say, and all that came out was, "No - it was just . . ." She saw the quill still in her hand and reached it out to Harry. "You dropped your quill."  
  
Dropped your quill?! Cho screamed at herself. How idiotic! But Cho, who was sure her face was turning red, watched in amazement as Harry Potter, his own face turning red, reached out toward her.  
  
"Oh, right. Sorry."  
  
She handed her quill to Harry, her fingertips brushing against his. He's going to leave! Cho's mind shouted; say something! Say what you want to say!  
  
"Er, good luck on Tuesday." Is that the best you can do?! "I really hope you do well."  
  
Harry looked into her eyes, although he had been trying to avoid them since he shouted at her. Muttering a "Thanks" that she could barely hear, he turned and walked up the corridor.  
  
Part of Cho's brain felt extremely stupid; you dropped your quill and good luck? Is that the best you can do? But this was a very small part of Cho's brain that didn't make itself heard until much later. At the moment, Cho Chang was happier than she'd been in months, happier than she'd been since Quidditch had been cancelled.  
  
Finally, FINALLY, she had had a conversation with Harry Potter!  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 54, wherein Cho sends her parents details about the First Task. 


	54. The First Task

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
54. The First Task  
  
Tuesday, 24 November 1994  
  
Dear Mummy and Daddy:  
  
First of all, scratch Chairman Miao behind his ears for me, and tell him I hope that he feels better soon. I'm sure many a younger cat would have lost all nine lives where he survived. But it's a shame that he should be sleeping in his own back yard and be attacked by a wyvern. I'm glad to hear that the Chairman gave as good as he got. Still, for a wyvern to get loose in Knockturn Alley and dash all the way into our yard! I knew Knockturn Alley was lax on pest control, but this is more than enough! Can't you and some of the other Diagon Alley merchants petition the Ministry to do something?  
  
Anyway, speaking of dragons (and a wyvern is one of the smallest species of dragon), I saw four of them today! So did all of Hogwarts. The First Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament pitted the Champions against dragons. I wanted to write this note and send it with Quan Yin tonight, before you saw anything in the Prophet, so that you could know what really happened. The way the Prophet has been covering the Tournament, they may well claim that the Champions had to fight armed only with their teeth!  
  
The First Task was held after lunch today; afternoon classes were canceled. We all took the stands, which had been built far from the castle, almost on the other side of the lake, where we could see what would happen in four paddocks, side by side. In each one was a dragon-a mother dragon, no less, nesting on her eggs. Each Champion had to get an artificial golden egg out of the nest with the least damage and, of course, their skins intact. If this is the First Task, I shudder to think what the other two might be.  
  
There were four different species of dragons, and the four Champions randomly chose which dragon to fight and in which order. The first was Cedric Diggory, a Prefect, the Hufflepuff Seeker and a decent person. At least, I thought so until the business with the badges I told you about in my last owl. I'd hate to think that he was showing his true colours, but he just kept going to classes and letting girls from all seven years it seems chat him up in the corridors. Meanwhile, people kept wearing those terrible badges.  
  
Well, he was first up, as I said, and he was up against a Swedish Short- Snout. What he did was risky, but still made sense. There was a large rock on the ground, and he Transfigured it into a Labrador retriever. Now this dragon who can barely see past the edge of her nest (because all dragons have weak eyes) has this large black dog pestering her, poking its nose at the eggs. So she lets loose a few bursts of fire, but the dog just runs out of range, then trots back and tries again. He hoped to keep the dragon occupied, and maybe get her up out of the nest, so that he could run in and get the golden egg. And it almost worked. On about the fourth of fifth pass, the Short-Snout actually got up and was going to start after the dog. However, she must have seen Cedric make a movement out of the corner of her eye, and at the last second she turned and spat fire at him instead. It singed his face and part of his robes about the right shoulder, but he managed to get the egg. After that, the crew of dragon handlers put the Short-Snout to sleep, and Cedric went to see Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse. I could hear most of the girls around me lamenting that the dragon might have ruined Cedric's good looks, but I wasn't too concerned. He could still walk, after all, which most wizards can't who meet a Short-Snout.  
  
The next up was that horrible French girl I wrote to you about, Fleur Delacour. She has not improved a bit in the three weeks she's been at Hogwarts. She still criticizes everyone and everything that isn't Beauxbatons. She's haughty, aloof and mean-spirited. I still can't believe that she's the best Beauxbatons has got; if so, then the French wizards must be pretty pathetic.  
  
She had to fight a Welsh Green, and it seemed more agitated than any of the other dragons. Of course, we were all stunned when she walked right up to the paddock, as if she was going to cast a spell on the Green. I thought it would end horribly; dragons deflect all but the most advanced spells, after all, and certainly nothing a student could do would faze it. But, after a few minutes of the Green twisting and screaming and snapping in her direction, it began to slow down. Maybe it was the combination of her wand, which is loaded with veela hair, and Delacour being part-veela herself. Anyway, she put a sleeping spell on the Green and, sure enough, its eyes started to close. But no sooner does the dragon actually fall to sleep, and she tries to take the egg, when the Green snored, and a great torch of fire went straight at Delacour. She sidestepped it and grabbed the egg, but part of her robes caught fire. She put out the fire with water from her wand, and she did all of this in less time than it took Cedric. Perhaps the Goblet knew who it was choosing after all.  
  
Then came Viktor Krum, except thast he didn't look the way he did at the World Quidditch Cup. He was just as nervous as the others, especially because he was facing a Fireball. She wasn't as big as the ones we saw in China, but she was angry enough for two. Her frills were full-spread and vibrating in a wonderful display. If I had been against her, I wouldn't have been afraid, since I know how to read a Fireball's movements and moods; you taught me what to expect from a dragon. But Krum was clearly out of his element.  
  
You have to bear in mind, since I forgot to mention it earlier, that the Champions were kept away from the paddocks until it was their turn, so none of them knew what the others had tried to get the egg. Krum took roughly the same approach that Delacour did, by attacking the dragon directly, and also the same approach Cedric did, by trying to take advantage of the dragon's weak eyesight. He gave the Fireball a Conjunctivitis Curse; it's not what I would have done, since it falls under the area of the Dark Arts. But Krum paid the price for it, because the Fireball immediately knew something was wrong, panicked and started thrashing about. She destroyed half of her own eggs before Krum could dash toward the nest and grab the golden egg. He came away unharmed, but he actually made me feel sorry for the Fireball.  
  
Then the last Champion: Ha Li Po Te. I wish you could have seen it. The other three were all Seventh-Year, so when Harry comes out of the tent, he looks like a child by comparison-he's only fourteen. And he drew probably the nastiest dragon of the four: a Hungarian Horntail, which meant that he had to watch out for both her fiery breath and her spiked tail.  
  
I don't know Harry very well, but we've spoken. We're both Seekers for our Houses, but I don't mind admitting that he's a genius flier. He's done a brilliant job as Seeker. He's already the kind of Quidditch player I want to become someday, and he's just a bit younger than I am. (Here Cho wrote something, and then thoroughly scratched it out.)  
  
Anyway, the first thing he does, he turns his back on the Horntail, points his wand toward the castle and performs a Summoning Spell! And sure enough, a few minutes later, his Firebold Quidditch broom comes sailing along by itself, right into his hands! So simple, yet so brilliant! Two of the other Champions were also Seekers, and it never occurred to them to do it!  
  
Well, once Harry was airborne, the contest was over. Not that he wasn't still in danger from both ends of the Horntail, but it was just another Quidditch match for him-except he was trying to grab a very large Snitch. He kept passing in front of the Horntail, gradually going higher and higher, keeping just out of range, trying to get her to come up off the nest. One time a tail spike cut into his shoulder, but that didn't stop him; he did exactly what a Seeker should do. He waited for just the right moment, when the frustrated Horntail had reared up, ready to fly after him, and then he dived down swift as the wind and carried off the golden egg. And the Fourth-Year did it all quicker than all three Seventh-Years!  
  
The scores were posted afterwards, and even here there was a bit of a battle, because of the outright favoritism shown to Krum by the Durmstrang Headmaster. Still, at the end, Krum and Harry Potter were tied for the lead. And the Hogwarts students, most of whom resented Harry even being in the Tournament, had largely turned around and were cheering him on. That made me gladdest of all. However he had gotten chosen, he didn't deserve everyone's suspicion and scorn. I shouldn't be glad that so many of my fellow students are hypocrites, but they had no good reason to be so hard on Harry.  
  
The Second Task won't be until February 24; a late birthday present for me. In the meantime, we still have classes, and next month is the Yule Ball. Never having been to one, I don't hold out much hope for having fun, and I wish I could come home for the holidays, but at least the rest of Hogwarts will be here, and if I've learned anything, it's that Hogwarts always has something unexpected to offer!  
  
My love to you all,  
  
Your little Horse, Cho  
  
xxx  
  
Cho read the parchment several times over, finally satisfying herself that the wording was right. She called to Quan Yin, who had been siting on the window sill, patiently waiting.  
  
"I really don't hold out much hope for the Ball, you know," she said to the owl, barely above a whisper, as she tied the letter to her leg, "although there is one boy who I hope asks me." She smiled, kissed the owl on top of its head, and set her loose into the night sky.  
  
She looked out at the Hogwarts grounds, hidden by night, for some time, before she went to bed. She lay down, drew the curtains, and her final waking thought was: Good night, Harry, and congratulations: you really are a Champion.  
  
With that, she drifted into a dreamless sleep.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 55, wherein Cho is asked to the Yule Ball in a most distressing manner.  
  
A/N: As I type this, we are literally hours away from the release of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I have plotted out "Or Die Trying" to take place during the summer after the Tournament, but now I am oftwo minds about whether to try to reconcile this story with OotP. I'll let you know as the fic progresses. 


	55. Invitation to the Dance

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
55. Invitation to the Dance  
  
A Ravenclaw can study under any conditions. The story is that, when the Dark forces of Grindelwald prepared to attack Hogwarts itself, one group of Ravenclaw students ignored the alarm and stayed in the Potions dungeon, trying to perfect an Ennervating Draught, only because the problem was so interesting.  
  
So it was that most of the Ravenclaw students threw themselves back into their studies after the First Task, noting the Champions' performances and then moving on to their course work, viewing the Tournament the way they viewed the snow and cold that moved in at the beginning of December and settled in, locking the school in early winter as if in a Body Bind Hex.  
  
Not every Ravenclaw, of course. Many of the students finished their assignments quickly and thoroughly, and found themselves with time on their hands. Their free hours were filled with activities ranging from the unusual (Second-Year Devi Ramaprasad building a scale model of Hogsmeade that was gradually taking over the floor of his dormitory) to the bizarre (Third Year Luna Lovegood, who some said was eccentric while others said was quite mad, had taken to climbing the library ladder in the Common Room only to hang upside down by her heels for hours at a time) to the downright dangerous (Giulio Grimaldi's attempts to perfect a Discorporation Potion, apparently for the sole purpose of walking through walls into the girls' dormitories).  
  
Cho Chang had her own after-hours activity: flying. The cancellation of Quidditch for the year had hit her harder than even she realized, and she found that the only way to keep her mood even and her sanity intact was to go out once or twice a month after supper, get her Comet Two Sixty, and fly as fast as she could, in complicated patterns, around the walls of the castle, and even into the edges of the Forbidden Forest. It wasn't exactly Seeking, but she'd done very little night flying until this year, and she found it both thrilling and relaxing. The reduced visibility challenged her senses, forcing her to react to what she saw rather than what she thought she remembered. After an hour or so, with the edge taken off of her need to fly and her equilibrium restored, she could return to schoolwork-hers or others.  
  
She was studying not just for her class exams, after all, but also for her Ordinary Wizarding Levels in the spring, so she was not only studying the full complement of courses for the year (Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Divination, Muggle Studies) but also brushing up on courses she'd taken earlier.  
  
But she didn't lock herself in the library or her dormitory to study. Like so many Ravenclaw, she would set up shop in the Common Room; and, like so many Ravenclaw (including Penny Clearwater who had been so helpful during Cho's early days), she was never too busy to help another student who asked for help in one topic or other. She became an unofficial Fifth-Year Girls Prefect; officially, that honour fell to Letitia Groondy, whose grades were as high as her sense of propriety was inflexible.  
  
It wasn't until Cho awoke on the morning of 18 December, one week before the Yule Ball, that she started thinking seriously about it. No boy had yet asked her to go with him to the dance, and she was half expecting that nobody would, and half hoping that Harry Potter might.  
  
As five of the six girls washed up and dressed to go down to breakfast on this, the last day of the term, they heard the murmuring stop from behind the drawn curtains on Raina al-Qaba's bed. She opened the curtains, slid fully dressed out of bed, and folded up the mat she knelt on for five-times- a-day prayers.  
  
Jan Nugginbridge said what the other girls were thinking. "Yule Ball's comin' up. Who's got a date, then?"  
  
Letitia raised her hand. "Pablo asked me just yesterday", she said, referring to Pablo Molina, also a Prefect. "Are you going, Raina?"  
  
"Just to listen to the music," she replied. "I don't dance."  
  
"There's still a week; you could learn easily."  
  
A look came to Raina's eyes as if a moment she was afraid of had finally come. "No. I mean, I'm not allowed to dance."  
  
"By your parents?"  
  
"By my faith."  
  
"What-they don't let you have fun?"  
  
"That's not it. Islam teaches not to have so much fun that you forget about holy things. Listening to music is all right, but girls are never supposed to dance."  
  
Letitia cocked her head to one side. "Have you ever thought of just giving that all up? I mean, what does it get you?"  
  
"LETITIA!" Cho almost screamed. "That is incredibly rude! What would you say if someone told you to change the way you'd always done things, or the foods you'd always eaten?"  
  
"Don't jump down my throat just because I think she'd be better off!"  
  
"What SHE thinks about her life is all that's important."  
  
"Stop it, please," Raina interrupted Cho. "I don't want to be the cause of a fight."  
  
Letitia shrugged as Raina went down to the Common Room. The other girls soon joined her there, and they all went down to the Great Hall together. As they did, Raina took Cho's hand and squeezed it. Cho smiled at Raina and returned the squeeze.  
  
xxx  
  
The last day proceeded as normally as last days usually do with Christmas just around the corner. Some of the classes carried on as usual, or at least the professor expected them to, regardless of what the students were feeling. Some teachers were more receptive of high spirits than others; Madam Pomfrey, who taught Introduction to the Healing Arts, for one, made allowances and gave the Fifth-Year Ravenclaws the "assignment" of bandaging a spruce in the hospital wing. By the time class ended, the tree was decked with rolls of gauze bandage and thermometer icicles. Vincent Krixlow ruined the effect by levitating a bedpan to the top of the tree in place of a star, but it sent the class to lunch laughing.  
  
During lunch, Cho only half-listened as the girls near her talked about who might invite them and who was still available. She glanced several times at Harry at the Gryffindor table, and once she thought she saw him glance at her, but lunch ended and he still hadn't made a move.  
  
He was still at the Gryffindor table when Cho and her year left for their last two classes: History with Binns and Dark Arts with Moody. At the door of the History of Magic class, Cho heard a voice behind her. "Excuse me, Cho."  
  
She turned; it was Cedric. Her grip on the door tightened. He wasn't one of her favourite people just at the moment.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Well, do you have a minute?"  
  
She could ignore him and go into Binns' class. No; anything on earth was preferable to Binns' class. "Just a minute, then," she said, a bit impatiently. The other girls chuckled as they watched the two Seekers move a few steps down the corridor. Cho glared at them and they ducked into the classroom, chuckling even louder.  
  
Cedric didn't waste time; "I get the feeling you're mad at me."  
  
"And you can't imagine why?" she asked huffily. "Don't you ever think about what's been going on?"  
  
"Well, what HAS been going on?"  
  
Cho couldn't believe it; maybe he really was as thick as Roger Davies had painted him. "It's just that I always thought you were a decent person, and you just let it go on!"  
  
"Let what go on?"  
  
"The badges!" Cho barely had her temper under control. "I can't believe you haven't tried to do a single thing about those awful badges!"  
  
"W-Wait a minute!" Cedric sputtered, turning red with embarrassment. "You blame me for those?"  
  
"I blame you for not doing anything about them!"  
  
"But I did! As soon as I saw what they said about Potter I went right to Snape himself. I complained to him directly as Head of Slytherin House. It was like I wasn't even there. He said I was too thin-skinned to make allowances for what he called the 'high spirits' of some of the Slytherins. Made it all sound like a joke, and there was nothing I could do about it in any case. Look, I'm sorry if they offend you; they offend me too! And it made me feel even worse just because people like you thought I had a hand in them or something. You didn't really think that, did you?"  
  
Somehow, Cedric had not only deflected her argument but turned it back on Cho. She actually grew flustered as she tried to answer: "Well, I suppose not, but I thought you were just letting it go on."  
  
"Believe me, I would have stopped it if I could. Potter's a good kid; I wouldn't insult him like that-not after that First Task, certainly. Anyway, I haven't been seeing so many of those things, so I guess the joke's wearing off. Still, I'm sorry if you were offended."  
  
"Don't be; sorry, I mean," Cho replied, still nervous for a reason she couldn't explain. "You didn't try to offend me. I'm the one who should be sorry, accusing you like that."  
  
"Don't mention it," Cedric smiled down at her. At this moment, Cho was very conscious of the fact that her head barely reached his shoulder. "But I would like to make it up to you."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Let me take you to the Yule Ball."  
  
No; this wasn't how it was supposed to be. Where was Harry? Harry should be asking. Instead, here she was, with Cedric Diggory looming over her- Cedric Diggory, who all the Hogwarts girls, it seemed, wanted to chat up, or worse. But Cho had never shown him the least interest in that way; he was a friend and a fellow Seeker and that's all. She tried to tell him so, but all she could do when she looked into his face was to observe how his eyes were such a singular shade of gray.  
  
"Nobody's asked you already, have they?"  
  
Cho tried to speak again, but could only shake her head.  
  
"I'd be honoured."  
  
Again Cho tried to speak; again, she could only nod her head.  
  
"You will?" Cedric beamed as if he never in a million years thought that she'd say yes. "That's super! Well, I'll let you get to class now. We can talk later. Thanks!" And he dashed down the hall, leaving Cho Chang to wonder what she had just done, and why she had just done it, and if perhaps Cedric Diggory was some sort of male veela.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho slipped into the classroom, and slipped into a seat next to Jan, who whispered to her, and she whispered back, as Professor Binns droned on:  
  
"In the year 1476, on the Isle of Skye, Rippselmick the Ravenous levied the first known tax on wands . . ."  
  
"HE DID WOT?!"  
  
Binns looked at the back of the room. Jan Nugginbridge had suddenly buried her face in her arms on the table; Cho Chang was making a point at looking somewhere other than the front of the room. "If you're having trouble with your hearing, Miss Nugginbridge, kindly go to the hospital wing. If not, allow me to continue."  
  
He went back to droning on about Rippselmick while Jan whispered to Cho: "Pull the other one!"  
  
"He did. He asked and, and, I said yes."  
  
"Didn't think yeh fancied him."  
  
"This isn't about fancying anyone. I can't tell you the rest now."  
  
But the news had made the rounds of the room and, as soon as the bell sounded and they left the classroom, all of the other girls descended on Cho, clamoring for details.  
  
"Look, it's not such a big deal," she told them a bit impatiently. "He asked, I agreed."  
  
"But what did you say, exactly?" Libby Foggly asked.  
  
Cho didn't want to tell them that she didn't say anything; that she just stood there like a fool. She didn't have to tell them anything just yet, as Roger Davies caught up with them just outside of the Dark Arts dungeon.  
  
"Afternoon, ladies," he said jauntily. "Might I borrow the Seeker for a second?"  
  
The other girls started giggling; they thought they knew what was about to happen. Cho thought so, too, only she didn't think it was funny.  
  
"Cho, I know we started the year off on the wrong end of the broom," he started, sounding as if he'd rehearsed this speech, "and I'm really glad we're still friends. Well, one friend to another, will you let me take you to the Yule Ball?"  
  
The words were barely out of his mouth when the group of Ravenclaw girls started chuckling.  
  
"Friend to friend, Roger, I wish I could say yes, but I've already been asked."  
  
Roger didn't seem to have considered this possibility. He looked first stunned, then a little angry as he said, "By whom, then? No, no; don't tell me. Right now I just might hunt him down and do him a mischief. Excuse me."  
  
He turned his back on Cho; the other girls got out of his path just in time as he stormed back up toward the castle.  
  
"Is that what they call letting him down easy?" Vincent Krixlow started. He stopped when Cho turned to him, with a look more sorrowful than angry. Even he realized that he shouldn't say anything. They all silently went into Professor Moody's class.  
  
xxx  
  
By the time class was over, they were once again noisy and in high spirits. "Free at last!" shouted Giulio Grimaldi down the corridor, which was swiftly filling with other students. The holiday had officially begun.  
  
"Yeah," Vincent said, "all we have to worry about now is the Yule Balls."  
  
"Can you spare the rest of us a boy out of your stable, Cho?" Diana Fairweather joked.  
  
"It's not a stable!" Cho stamped her foot. "Honestly! Just because two boys ask me on the same day . . ."  
  
"Er, Cho? Could I have a word with you?"  
  
It was a voice that Cho had heard maybe a handful of times in her life, but she knew it as completely as she knew her own. She didn't have to turn to face the speaker to know it was Harry. The laughter of the other girls merely confirmed the fact.  
  
"Okay."  
  
Harry walked a little down the corridor, and she followed him. She tried to keep a calm face, but her stomach was lurching like the time she fell through the missing step.  
  
Harry seemed to be struggling for the words he wanted to say; Cho simply stood, watching and waiting. Finally he managed something that sounded like, "Whango ball wimmie."  
  
"Sorry," Cho said politely, as if she didn't know what he had said, but she was sure that she knew what he had said.  
  
"D'you-D'you want to go to the ball with me?" Harry managed to get out, blushing crimson as he spoke.  
  
"Oh." Watching Harry turn red made Cho turn just as red. "Oh, Harry, I'm really sorry. I've already said I'll go with someone else."  
  
"Oh." He seemed frozen, like a statue, and it took a few seconds before he came alive again. "Oh okay; no problem."  
  
No you're not okay! Cho wanted to shout. I can see it! We all can see it! Why don't you say it!! But all she could do was repeat, "I'm really sorry."  
  
"That's okay."  
  
No it isn't, but you're so sweet to say so, thought Cho. I wish I'd told Cedric no; I wish I had your courage.  
  
She and Harry just looked at each other for another minute. Cho finally decided to say, "Well."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She felt that her face was just getting redder and redder. "Well, bye." She turned and walked away. I made it, she thought, I made it. I got away without Harry asking. . .  
  
"Who're you going with?"  
  
Cho froze in her tracks as if she'd been hit with an Imperius Curse. She turned, as casually as she could and said, "Oh. Cedric; Cedric Diggory."  
  
All Harry said was, "Oh. Right." He walked away, but Cho could tell this news hurt Harry far more than her rejection did.  
  
The other Ravenclaw girls crowded around Cho. "Guess we'll have teh call yeh 'Feast er Famine' Chang!" Jan laughed.  
  
Cho did not think any of this was a laughing matter.  
  
Harry, Harry, she thought toward the swiftly fleeing back of Harry Potter. Why didn't you say something at lunch? Why didn't you say something?  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 56, wherein the Yule Ball begins on a very sour note for Cho Chang  
  
A/N: Book 5 is finally out, and I've heard from some folks that I should continue this fic into the new book. For the moment, let the record show that the book bears out the premise of this fic: that Cho was as interested in Harry as he was in her.  
  
Also, "Rippselmick" is an in-joke that hardly anyone else will get. It's based on RPSLMC, the initials of the place where I work: Rush-Presbyterian- St. Luke's Medical Center in Chicago. 


	56. The Yule Ball: 1

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
56. The Yule Ball: 1  
  
"18 December 1994  
  
Dear Mummy,  
  
I'm writing to you specifically because I seem to have gotten myself into a problem, and I hope that you can help me to resolve it. Don't worry; it isn't anything dreadful; at least, I don't think so.  
  
You already know about the Yule Ball that Hogwarts is holding on Christmas Day. I had expected to attend alone, not being certain if anyone would ask me. Mummy, not only have I been asked, but I've been asked by one of Hogwarts' Champions, Cedric Diggory. This means that he will be the center of attention, and so will I.  
  
This also happens to be the first time I have ever gone out on a date with a boy! I have a hundred questions running through my head now, and none of them can be answered by going to a book in the library. How should I act? Should I pay attention to other boys at the Ball, and is there such a thing as paying them too much attention, even though they're my friends?  
  
It's only been a few hours since I accepted Cedric's invitation and already I wish I'd said "no". I'm going to be a package of raw nerves until Christmas Day is over. Mummy, please tell me something. Give me some advice that I can use. Let me know that everything will work out for the best in this case, where absolutely nothing is certain to me at all.  
  
I'm sending my Christmas presents home now, along with this letter. Please send Quan Yin back to me with words to calm my nerves and slow down my racing heart.  
  
Your very befuddled little Horse,  
  
Cho"  
  
xxx  
  
The next morning, a Saturday, Cho stayed in bed as long as possible. In spite of her stomach growling, she wished she could sleep through breakfast, through lunch, and, if at all possible, not wake up until December 26 and avoid the whole mess. Maybe I could talk to Libby Foggly, she thought; she's good at Potions. Didn't Snape say something once about a sleeping draught, Living Death or something . . .  
  
"HEY CHO!" Jan's voice cut through the bed-curtains. "Are yeh sick or summat?"  
  
You have no idea, she thought, but she said, "Give me a minute."  
  
Cho had put off going down to breakfast in part to avoid the very boy she saw leaving the Great Hall just as she was approaching it: Cedric Diggory.  
  
"Ah, Cho! They say the Champions are supposed to have the procession into the Great Hall and then be the first couples on the dance floor. So I think I need to meet you here at quarter to eight next Friday night. Can you do that?"  
  
Procession? Again, Cho could only nod.  
  
"That's great!" Cedric beamed. "You know, I still can't believe this is happening. See you Friday night!" And he was off to Hufflepuff House.  
  
I can't believe this is happening, either, Cho thought.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho didn't receive an answer from her mother until Christmas Day. She awoke to the sound of all the other girls talking about their presents, and the Yule Ball.  
  
Cho saw a large parcel from her family, plus a smaller package; apparently a book. She unwrapped it to find "The Poetry of Hafiz", the great 14th Century Iranian poet. It was a scholar's edition, with the verses written in English on one side of the page and in Arabic on the other.  
  
Cho didn't even have to read the inscription to know who sent it. She looked over at Raina. "Happy Christmas, Cho," she beamed.  
  
"But I didn't get you anything," Cho said lamely.  
  
"You've already given me far more than you know. I just wanted to thank you."  
  
Cho's mother had sent the high-necked cheongsam Cho had worn last winter. It was yet another sore point between them. Lotus had wanted Cho to wear the cheongsam; Cho preferred dress robes of pale blue, with the neck scooped just low enough to show her throat. But as Cho was putting the cheongsam in her wardrobe, she felt something heavy in the pocket. She pulled out a parcel containing a string of absolutely perfect pearls. The note attached simply said, "I imagine these will go better with the blue robes."  
  
Cho felt that she would never understand her mother, who seemed to be able to give wonderful gifts with one hand and insults at the same time with the other. She'd asked for advice, and got none. She wondered if other daughters had the same problem with their mothers.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho spent most of the day reading in the Common Room. She was late to breakfast but planned to enjoy a large lunch; she assumed that the ball would have small refreshments, and, even if there were a sit-down dinner, manners dictated that she eat fairly little. But, even though she hid it well, she was so nervous about the ball that she had hardly any appetite.  
  
She heard some of the students holding a snowball fight outside. She'd never done that; her parents didn't let her play with the gwailo kids. It was probably too late now; too late to just forget lessons and propriety and be a child.  
  
At six o'clock, she started to get ready, slipping on the blue robes with the string of pearls. That was the easy part. For the next hour, she fussed and fussed with her hair, not satisfied with it no matter what she did. She tried letting it hang straight, but it drifted into her eyes when she moved. She wove it into a long braid that hung down her back, but decided that this was too casual. Two long braids coiled onto the sides of her head? Foolish. Two buns on the sides of her head? Matronly.  
  
She kept experimenting until Jan reminded her that time was running out. Cho realized that perhaps the best would be a combination of letting the hair hang down her back, but it needed something to keep it in place, a comb of some kind. . .  
  
A COMB!  
  
Cho dove for her trunk, for a drawer she hardly ever used, and found it: The Chinese-style black lacquered comb that appeared when she opened a Christmas cracker during her first year at Hogwarts. Briefly she marveled at how the castle may well have known what would happen in four years; then, with time almost gone, she gathered up her hair and pinned it into place with the comb.  
  
Jan, who was ready fifteen minutes earlier but waited for Cho, surveyed the results: "Tha's the best yet. Yeh'll sweep 'em all off their feet."  
  
"Right now, I don't want to sweep anyone anywhere! I hate this!"  
  
"Ye're daft! The food, the music. . ."  
  
"Detention with dinner and dancing. I just want to put in my four hours and get it over with."  
  
She didn't tell Jan the real reason she was bothered. She had so wanted to be asked to the Ball by Harry Potter; now, she'd be stuck close to Harry, but as someone else's date. But the way things looked certainly weren't the way things were-  
  
As she crossed the Common Room it seemed that half of Ravenclaw House was waiting there. They were a riot of coloured robes, but they made way for Cho. She kept her gaze straight ahead, not acknowledging the applause, not even smiling.  
  
The same crowd of colourful robes was gathered in front of the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall stood out because of her red tartan robes, but Cedric, in robes as gray as a silkie's skin, stood out because of his height. He had been watching for Cho and pushed his way through the crowd to her.  
  
When he got to her, he just stood, stared and tried to speak: "Cho, you're . . . speechless!"  
  
"I don't think so," she laughed.  
  
Cedric's cheeks turned red. "I mean, I'm beautiful."  
  
"Well, as long as one of us is," Cho joked. Before she could say anything else, though, Professor McGonagall spoke up: "Champions over here, please!"  
  
She was summoning them to a spot just by the doors to the Great Hall. "I want you to wait here until all of the others have entered. Once they have taken their seats, you will make a processional entrance in pairs, following me. I will conduct you to your table."  
  
Table? We're all together? She glanced over at Harry Potter, whose bottle- green robes set off his eyes beautifully but rather clashed with the shocking pink robes of his escort, one of the Patil twins. She suspected it was Parvati, the one in Gryffindor, but Cho never could tell them apart.  
  
Viktor Krum wore black robes, fur-trimmed even indoors, and his companion wore delicate, periwinkle blue robes. Cho wasn't sure, but she thought the girl resembled the Gryffindor Hermione Granger.  
  
But then she saw Roger Davies. He would be at the champions' table after all, wearing robes the exact color of a Welsh Green dragon, and standing next to Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion. Fleur wore robes of a satiny silver-grey, as if she needed any tonsorial help. Roger Davies was truly under her veela's spell, and couldn't have told what was happening six inches in front of his face,  
  
Cho groaned. This was a nightmare-one that McGonagall added to by telling them to begin the procession.  
  
Cedric and Cho were second in line behind Roger and Fleur. The entire hall burst into applause as they entered, which didn't make Cho feel better at all. The feeling got even worse when she realized that they would be sitting at the head table with Dumbledore, the foreign Headmasters, and judges of the Tournament from the Ministry. Why was she there? She had no business there.  
  
"Did you say something?" Cedric asked in a whisper.  
  
Cho wasn't about to repeat the sentence, "I wish I was dead."  
  
The feeling only got worse when Cho looked about her again. Harry was off to one side, but he was making a point of looking away from Cho, as if she had hurt him deeply. She was afraid that she had hurt Roger Davies deeply, but now he was oblivious to anything or anyone but Fleur. Cedric tried to make small talk with Cho, but she wasn't listening, and he soon gave it up and returned to his crown roast, while Cho ate Peking duck without tasting a mouthful of it.  
  
She felt that this was surely the worst day of her life.  
  
After dinner, with everyone on their feet, Dumbledore magicked the tables and chairs into a raised platform along one wall. Instruments including guitars, drums, a lute, cello and bagpipes appeared on the stage, soon followed by six men.  
  
The Weird Sisters weren't sisters, and weren't particularly weird-just unkempt and slovenly. One of them stepped forward to the edge of the stage.  
  
"MERRY CHRISTMAS HOGWARTS!" The audience cheered as Cho recognized the speaker: Kirley McCormack, the son of Catriona McCormack, Captain of the Pride of Portee Quidditch team. "And welcome to all the visitors from afar, taking part in the Tri-Wizard Tournament!" Another round of cheering and applause. "We'll begin with a new number we just wrote for the Tournament. It's called, 'The vampires are prowling and the werewolves are howling, but I'll be a Champion for you.'"  
  
The cellist started a slow, mournful melody, as Cedric took Cho's hand and led her onto the dance floor. Apparently, the Champions really were to start off the dancing.  
  
"Cedric," Cho said in a voice he could barely hear, "I hope you don't think too terribly of me, but I have to admit to something: I don't know how to dance."  
  
She may have expected any kind of outburst from anger to mocking laughter. Instead, Cedric simply chuckled. "Easiest thing in the world; I'll talk you through it. Stick out your right hand."  
  
Cho did so; Cedric immediately wrapped her hand in his.  
  
"Now, put your other hand on my waist." As Cho did so, Cedric put his other hand on her shoulder. "It should be the other way round, but the height difference-Anyway, just take one step with your left, then one with your right, and so on, and follow my lead."  
  
So Cho followed Cedric's lead, and an amazing thing happened: the knot of fear and dread with which she had approached the evening started to dissolve. Cedric's eyes seemed to pour confidence directly into her, and, though she made a few missteps, she found that she was actually dancing! Furthermore, that she liked it!  
  
The song ended abruptly-too soon, Cho thought. But then the Weird Sisters launched into another, much faster song, "Playing the Goblins' Game."  
  
"Now what?" Cho laughed.  
  
"Just a bit different," Cedric said. "Take two steps with each foot, in and out, then switch."  
  
"And what do I do with my hands?"  
  
"ANYTHING YOU WANT!" Cedric shouted, as the band suddenly played as loudly as it could. Cedric began to illustrate by waving one arm as if it held a wand; then he was stirring a cauldron; then he seemed to be swimming. Cho tried to copy his moves at first, gave it up laughing, and was soon dancing on her own.  
  
They announced the next song, "A Sickle For My Love", and played a slow and haunting melody. Cho held her arms out to Cedric, expecting them to dance as they had at the beginning. Instead he stepped up to her, wrapping one arm almost completely around her waist while holding her hand with the other. Cho was so close to him now that she was sure she could feel his heart beating.  
  
This was much nicer.  
  
Then there were several more fast songs: "Send the Aurors After You", "Flying Tonight", "Magic In My Wand". Cho kept up with Cedric all the way.  
  
Then McCormack announced a request for another slow song. The lute began playing a sweet, slow figure as he started to sing: "It was a pumpkin sunset . . ."  
  
Many of the dancers applauded; "Pumpkin Sunset" was one of their most popular love songs; even Cho had heard this one on the WWN. But she wasn't listening to the words now. She was in the incredibly gentle arms of Cedric Diggory, resting her head against his chest, and knowing that their two hearts were keeping exactly the same time.  
  
When the last notes sounded, Cho realized in amazement that they had been dancing for an hour. She asked Cedric if she could get some refreshments, and he agreed.  
  
"That was wonderful," she said as she sipped pumpkin punch. "I never knew I could . . ."  
  
She was interrupted by the band starting again.  
  
"Another turn?" Cedric shouted over the music.  
  
"A little of that goes a long way," Cho shouted back. "Maybe we can step outside for a minute."  
  
"What?"  
  
"OUTSIDE!"  
  
They walked together out to the stone steps, looking at the fairy lights that illuminated the rose garden.  
  
"Flitwick did a lovely job, didn't he?" Cho asked, more to make conversation than anything else.  
  
Cedric didn't speak for a minute; then, he turned to Cho and said, "How would you like to see something really special?"  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 57, wherein secrets about Cho and Cedric are revealed 


	57. The Yule Ball 2: The Secret Garden

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
57. The Yule Ball 2: The Secret Garden  
  
Cedric led Cho around the castle toward the greenhouses. Cho began to worry about this; what did Cedric mean exactly when he said he wanted to show her something special?  
  
They stopped behind Greenhouse Number Three at the wall that separated Hogwarts' grounds from the fields and woods beyond. Cedric drew his wand, touched it to one brick in the wall, and drew a circle. As soon as the circle was completed, a portion of the wall swung away as if on hinges, and revealed . . .  
  
"This is," Cedric began.  
  
"A garden!" Cho exclaimed in delight.  
  
True, it didn't look like a garden now, covered with the snows of winter. Cedric looked part impressed and part disappointed that Cho had guessed it. "I suppose the stone bench was a giveaway," he said sheepishly.  
  
Cho pulled out her own wand and pointed it at the bench, which was against the back wall of the garden, and just long enough for two people. "Thermos!" she said, and the bench was cleared of snow and slightly warm to the touch. "May I?" she asked Cedric.  
  
"Of course." He sat down beside her. "In fact, you're the first person who's ever been impressed by this."  
  
"Meaning that others have been here?"  
  
"Well, if I've gone out with a girl, and I thought she was, y'know, something special, I'd bring her here to see the garden. But they just end up saying, 'That's all? Now what?' I'm glad you can appreciate it."  
  
"Well, we don't exactly have a garden back in Diagon Alley, but my family were Herbologists for generations back in China. I guess I picked up something from them."  
  
There was an awkward minute when neither said anything, but they both seemed to want to say something. In the silence they heard some sort of animal calling in the Forbidden Forest, and faintly they could hear the music of the Weird Sisters start up again.  
  
"When you were taking me back here," Cho finally said, "I wasn't sure what I'd find. I suppose this really isn't a secret garden, though, if others know about it. How did you start it, then?"  
  
"Professor Sprout showed it to me in my First Year. The reason she did, well, it's not important. Strange to think that I'll be leaving at the end of spring term and never working the garden again."  
  
"Then let me," Cho said. "I'd be happy to share your secret; if Professor Sprout agrees, of course."  
  
"Thanks, that's awfully nice of you to volunteer, but I'd rather not share this secret."  
  
"But you've just said that others know about it, so it really isn't a secret, is it?"  
  
"I can tell you a real secret, then; something that nobody else at Hogwarts knows. But first you have to tell me one."  
  
"Let me think. There's something I can think of that nobody here knows: my middle name. I don't think I've ever told it to anyone."  
  
Cedric suddenly looked very serious, as if he were being trusted with the keys to Gringotts. "What is it, then?"  
  
"Li. It's my mother's family name. In China, I'd be called Chang Cho Li."  
  
Cedric looked at her strangely, almost inquisitively for a few seconds, then broke into a grin. "I like it. Not that there's anything wrong with your name, but I never liked just calling you 'Chang' or 'Cho'. Makes me sound like a barking dog. Cho Li is softer, somehow; it suits you."  
  
"That's not how you're supposed to think of it." She was about to tell Cedric off when he interrupted.  
  
"Would you mind awfully if I called you Cho Li?"  
  
He looked so anxious, so hopeful, that Cho realized that she couldn't dress him down for what he'd said. Her mother would call him "every inch a gwailo", but he was at least interested and seemed willing to learn.  
  
"I'd like that; thank you," she smiled. There was another awkward moment when each looked at the other, waiting for . . . something. Cho finally broke the silence: "Your secret now."  
  
"Well, there's one thing," Cedric said. And either a cold wind had chosen that moment to touch his cheeks, or he really was blushing. Cho thought that, in spite of his size, it made him look childlike and vulnerable. Yet he wasn't ashamed or afraid of his own vulnerability. There was no mask, no attempt to strut before Cho as if she was a veela. She liked this side of him.  
  
"Well, what is it?"  
  
"I do a little singing. Not professionally, like those blokes in there," he quickly qualified what he was saying. "Just for family parties and things like that. The truth is, I only bothered to learn the one song. My dad taught it to me years ago. It's Irish, I think . . ."  
  
"Stop stalling and let's hear it, then!" Cho laughed.  
  
Cedric chuckled again in embarrassment. And then he started: started in a clean, pure upper range that surprised Cho, then entranced her as she became caught up in words and music:  
  
"Of all the money ere I had, I spent it in good company,  
  
And all the harm I've ever done, alas was done to none but me  
  
And all I've done for want of wit, to memory now I can't recall  
  
So fill me to the parting glass, goodnight and joy be with you all.  
  
Of all the comrades ere I had, they're sad to see me going away,  
  
And all the sweethearts ere I had , they wish me one more day to stay,  
  
But since it falls unto my lot that I should rise and you should not,  
  
I'll raise my glass and softly call, goodnight and joy be with you all."  
  
Cho sat quite still for a minute, letting the last note die away into the winter night. When she spoke, it was to ask: "Are you sure that isn't Chinese?"  
  
Cedric almost laughed in surprise. "Pretty sure."  
  
"It's just . . . the melody . . . and the sentiments . . . they're all so . . . "Sing it to me again."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm not the least bit musical, but I have a good memory. Sing it to me once more, then I'll always have it in my head."  
  
Cedric obliged, singing a little louder and more forcefully as Cho tried to lose herself in words and music. This time, she spoke up as soon as he stopped.  
  
"Cedric, this is a side of you I've never seen. Why haven't the rest of us heard about this?"  
  
"It's just a party piece." He seemed more embarrassed than bothered. "Can't understand why you're making so much out of it."  
  
"It's just that . I'm beginning to wonder if there's anything you CAN'T do."  
  
"Well, there is."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
He thought for a few seconds, wanting to speak but clearly uncertain how to proceed. "I, well, I can't seem to ." He suddenly seemed to change his mind, putting on a forced happy air. "Never mind. It's a family matter anyway, and my dad always says you never air your dirty linen in public. About time we went back in, isn't it?"  
  
"Before we go back in, Cedric, I have to ask. Why me? Why ask me to the Ball? I mean, there are lots of girls here who are older, prettier . . ."  
  
"Listen, if it were up to me, I wouldn't have gone to the Ball in the first place. It's just that it's expected of the Champions."  
  
Cho looked bothered. "So you only asked me because you had to ask someone?"  
  
Cedric hurriedly and embarrassedly responded, "No! That's not how I meant that. I meant that, well, I didn't want to show off for the school or anything like that. Quidditch is one thing, but these social affairs. Well, I mean, once I knew I had to ask someone, I put together a short list, and there you were at the top of it. Is that better?"  
  
"I, I'm not sure." It was Cho's turn to be embarrassed. "I still don't feel like I've done anything to deserve it."  
  
"You know how I feel, then. That's enough."  
  
They walked back into the Great Hall, where the band was playing as loud as ever, and even Dumbledore and McGonagall were dancing. Cho and Cedric danced to a few lively tunes, but they had spent more than an hour in the garden and the evening was winding down. Cho looked around the dance floor for Harry, but finally saw him talking with his friend Weasley along the wall. Their dates, the Patil twins, were dancing with other boys.  
  
At the stroke of midnight, Dumbledore declared the Ball over. Some of the students crowded around the Weird Sisters; others sought out Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour. A few went to their Houses. Cedric was walking with Cho out of the Great Hall, when he glanced at a staircase. He hurriedly told Cho, "Wait just a tick!" He then dashed up the stairs to talk to Harry Potter.  
  
Cho could see that Harry didn't like Cedric, and didn't trust whatever Cedric was telling him. But she was sure that it wasn't really about Cedric: Harry had wanted to take Cho and couldn't. I'll make it up to you, Harry, Cho told herself; maybe on the next Hogsmeade trip.  
  
Just then, Cedric came back. "What was that all about?" she asked.  
  
"Oh, just Tournament stuff. Let's go."  
  
They walked side-by-side through the corridors of Hogwarts toward the hospital wing. From there, they would have to go to their separate Houses.  
  
Cho felt that she had to say something, even though she couldn't look at Cedric as she said it. "It was funny when you said you'd rather not have gone to the Ball. I felt exactly the same way. But now I, I want to thank you for asking me. It's been the most wonderful night of my life."  
  
Cedric blushed again. "I, I really don't know what, I mean-thank you. I feel just the same."  
  
"Too bad we have to go back to the old routine now. At least you still have the Tournament. Well, Happy Christmas."  
  
She turned to go; Cedric grabbed her hand. "We don't have to, you know. Go back, I mean."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean that I'd like you to go to Hogsmeade with me next month. I'd like to walk you to and from classes. I'd like to get away from the other girls who are just chatting me up to be seen with a Champion. Can we, I mean, can we be friends?"  
  
"We're already friends."  
  
"You know what I mean."  
  
Cho hesitated, still looking away. Cedric blurted out, "Look, if you don't want to, I understand. I mean, I know my reputation around here. I'm supposed to be thicker than oatmeal, and you're one of those brilliant Ravenclaw . . ."  
  
Cho turned suddenly toward him again, and put her other hand on top of his, smiling. "Cedric Diggory, it would be an honour to be your friend."  
  
With that, she pulled her hand away from his, turned and started toward Ravenclaw. "Good-bye! And thanks again."  
  
As soon as she was out of sight of Cedric, she broke into a run, and didn't stop until she was halfway to Ravenclaw. Then she leaned against a wall, panting as if she'd been running for miles.  
  
I guess a few things have changed tonight, she thought.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 58, wherein Cho learns much more about Cedric and his garden, and finds herself preparing for the Second Task  
  
A/N: The notion that Cedric Diggory had a separate garden that he tended, courtesy of Professor Sprout, I borrowed from a sweet and poignant little post-Tournament fic, "The Empty Garden" by Emma Moniz. I thank the author for permission to base part of my story on her idea; the story can be found in the Dark Arts section of fictionalley.org  
  
And the song "The Parting Glass" is one of the classics of British Isles folk music. 


	58. Before the Second Task

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
58. Before the Second Task  
  
Cho had taken several classes in Muggle Studies. Even though she wanted to pursue a career in Quidditch (and her family wanted her to continue their tradition of Herbology), she found it interesting to wonder how people with no magic at all could get along in the world. So she studied textbooks that the Ministry provided about electricity and television and the Underground. She was most interested in Muggle medicine, since it came closest to her Herbology experience, but she felt the textbooks still weren't getting it quite right.  
  
But there was one Muggle phenomenon she came to understand full well: addiction. Dancing with Cedric Diggory had given her a taste of physical contact, and it made her feel good-very good. And she wanted it to go on and on. Cedric must have felt this need too, because after the Yule Ball he re-arranged his schedule to be able to walk Cho to and from most of her classes. As soon as they drew near, her hand would slip neatly into his as if a sculptor had designed them to be together. Sometimes, as they did when they visited Hogsmeade together, he would put his arm around her shoulder or her waist, and she would lean up against him, feeling so secure and so happy that she didn't imagine how she could possibly feel any better.  
  
These weren't the only happy moments for her, of course. It seemed to Cho that everything that happened after the Ball was conspiring to make her explode with joy. When she saw the unicorns in Care of Magical Creatures class, she gave in to their charm, as do all maidens. Flitwick began teaching Contentment Charms, since Cho was in Fifth Years and her class's first O.W.L.s were fast approaching. The winter weather would even break on occasion and permit her to go to the secret garden with Ced, where they would sit on the bench and talk about their futures, or simply sit, leaning up against each other, or on a couple of occasions they would dance, sweetly and slowly, to music that nobody played.  
  
Two months flew by in this manner, and spring was just beginning to break when the week of the Second Task arrived. The night before, Cho went down to dinner and noticed that Cedric wasn't at the Hufflepuff table. She suspected that he was having a case of the jitters about the Task, and thought she knew where to find him.  
  
She was right. The door to the garden was open, and Cedric was sitting on the stone bench. There were still a few minutes of daylight.  
  
"Is something wrong?" she asked, sitting beside him.  
  
Cedric just stared down at the ground. "Got an owl from my father today. He went on and on about the Task, of course. Cho Li, it was awful. He kept saying that I not only had to finish first this time, I had to humiliate Harry, pound him into the ground, take him out of the lead . . ."  
  
He got up and started pacing the muddy ground; Cho had never seen him so agitated. "This summer, we were going to the World Quidditch Cup, we'd just found the Portkey and who should show up but a bunch of the Weasleys with Harry Potter in tow. My father-forget about manners. He starts in on Harry, taunting him with how he'd lost to Hufflepuff the year before."  
  
"He's proud of you," Cho started, but Cedric cut her off.  
  
"This went beyond pride. He starts telling me that 'This is something to tell your grandchildren: you beat Harry Potter!' Yeah, right; I beat him with the help of a driving rainstorm and a hundred dementors on the field. WHAT THE HELL KIND OF A LEGACY IS THAT?!"  
  
Cho was stunned; she had never seen Cedric in such a rage before. He was shuddering, rooted to the spot. Cho touched one of his hands; he seemed to realize that she was there, and sat next to her on the bench. He was silent for several minutes.  
  
"I didn't want you to see that," he said at last, in a soft and trembling voice. "This is why I got this garden. When I was a First Year, I got owls from my father almost every day. And they were all the same; all of them pushing me, berating me. I'd done everything right for him for ten years, and now it still wasn't enough. 'Keep up your studies,' 'Make sure you're on the Quidditch team,' 'You've got to be Prefect,'-all of this still in my First Year. The pressure was unending, and finally, I remember it was Halloween, I just-something snapped in me. Somebody said something in the Common Room, and I completely lost my temper. I rushed a group of boys, all of them bigger than me. I beat one of them pretty badly, before the others could pull me off; then, they started in on me.  
  
"I ended up in the hospital wing that night, and in the morning I woke up and saw Professor Sprout and Professor Pomfrey having this big serious talk at the other end of the ward. They kept looking at me, and I thought that I was going to be expelled.  
  
"But Professor Sprout showed me this garden instead. She said she was giving it to me during my time at Hogwarts. She said she knew my father and could imagine what living with him must be like, and said that if I felt myself losing my temper I should come here. I could let everything out, you see, without hurting myself or others. At first it made me feel like some sort of werewolf, but when spring came, I started planting cuttings. I found that gardening made me better able to stand the owls from home. It brought me peace."  
  
Cedric had not looked at Cho during all this, and still was staring down at his hands, rubbing them nervously in his lap. "This is the real reason I would take a girl out once, and only once. I could tell that they weren't ready for someone like me. They all wanted the public Cedric: happy and competent and a credit to his father. I could never let them see the monster I have inside me."  
  
Cho didn't answer. Instead, she put one hand on top of Cedric's hands, the other on his shoulder, and she leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. Not a word was spoken; the only sound was the soft splash of Cedric's tears falling onto the back of Cho's hand.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho woke early on 24 February. She'd had no trouble falling asleep the night before; she was exhausted by the time she went to bed. Holding Cedric, comforting him, didn't give her the same kind of joy she felt walking to class with her hand in his. This was something deeper, something she could never have anticipated. She felt drained, but would gladly have done it all again.  
  
As she came down to the Common Room, she saw Luna Lovegood hanging upside- down on the ladder again. This time, though, as soon as she saw Cho, Luna slipped off the ladder, landed on the day-bed, and bounced up onto her feet. "There's something I've got to tell you!"  
  
"All right, what is it?"  
  
Luna had to stop and think. "Let me see. Algernon has just been signed from Tutshill to Puddlemere United, that American Simpson is still on trial for killing his wife, eight billion years from now the sun is going to swallow up the entire earth, and-oh, yes-you're to report to Professor McGonagall's office at once."  
  
Cho left the Common Room shaking her head; for Luna, this was actually rather clear.  
  
The door to McGonagall's office was open. The only three people in it beside her were two of Harry Potter's friends from his year: the younger Weasley, Ron, and the girl Hermione Granger. She'd been mentioned as Harry's girlfriend in that ghastly article in the Prophet, and Cho recognized her from the Yule Ball, even though her hair was wildly different. They were standing in a corner, talking to each other in low voices; when Cho came in, they looked at her with suspicion, then went back to talking to each other.  
  
Very well. Cho went to the only other person in the room: a girl who couldn't have been more than ten years old, but had the long platinum blonde hair of the part veela Fleur Delacour. This girl sat by herself and looked completely miserable, and Cho's heart went out to her. "Are you here for the Second Task?" Cho asked, sitting beside the girl.  
  
The girl nodded. "But pleez do not talk wiz me. My Eenglish, it is evil."  
  
"Evil?"  
  
"Yes; very, very bad."  
  
It was all Cho could do to keep from laughing. "Nonsense, your English is fine," she smiled. "Are you Fleur's sister?"  
  
The girl nodded again. "My name is Gabrielle. Fleur brings me to 'Ogwarts; I am not old enough for Beauxbatons."  
  
"That was nice of her. You get to see another country and watch your sister."  
  
"She does not do this to be nice. Ze ozzers at school; they do not like her. She makes me come because she is lonely. But now I am lonely too. I miss my maman."  
  
Cho didn't know what to say. She wanted to comfort the child but, before she could do so, Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Albus Dumbledore swept into the room. Cho and Gabrielle jumped to their feet, Gabrielle wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robes.  
  
"Good morning, children," Dumbledore smiled. "I know that you would rather be looking for good seats from which to view the Second Task. However, I have called you here because you are all, in fact, part of the Second Task.  
  
"When the Champions retrieved the golden eggs in the First Task, they found that there was a message within the eggs. The message was hard to understand and needed a bit of skill to translate, but that's all part of the Tournament. The message told them that, for the Second Task, they would have to rescue someone who they cared about. I should say that, in the case of Harry Potter, this was a difficult choice, since he seemed to care for three of you here." At this, Ron and Hermione again looked suspiciously at Cho.  
  
"Even though there must be a certain element of danger to the Champions, I want to assure you that you will be in no danger at all. I'm going to put you into a Charmed sleep. You will then be placed into the lake, to be rescued by your respective Champions. They have one hour in which to accomplish this, but even if they exceed the time limit, no harm will come to you. The Charm will not allow you to wake up until you are in fact above the surface of the lake and able to breathe. You will suffer water- soaked robes, but that is the extent of the risk."  
  
Professor McGonagall spoke up. "To simplify matters, please sit in those chairs," she pointed to four chairs side-by-side against one wall. Ron and Hermione sat together; Cho sat next to Hermione without hesitation, leaving Gabrielle to sit on the outermost chair.  
  
"Don't worry," Cho whispered to Gabrielle. "Dumbledore is a great wizard; you can trust him completely."  
  
She could say no more, though, as Dumbledore drew his wand, and Cho's eyelids grew heavy and her brain fogged up.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 59, wherein the completion of the Second Task brings about a major change 


	59. After the Second Task

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
59. After the Second Task  
  
Dumbledore was correct when he said that the four would sleep until their heads broke the surface of the lake. However, this didn't stop them from dreaming in the lake, or from seeing and thinking some strange things in the foggy land between sleeping and waking.  
  
The first thought that crossed Cho's mind was: Sushi? I don't like sushi.  
  
Vaguely she realized there was a taste in her mouth of seaweed and marine animal. She tried to spit whatever it was out of her mouth, but through her half-closed eyes could only see a bubble of air being pushed out, then floating up.  
  
Bubble of air?  
  
She tried to turn her head but couldn't; tried to open her mouth wider but couldn't; tried to wake up from this odd dream but couldn't. In this dream she was underwater and everything was half-hidden in twilight dusk, although her mind tried to tell her that it had to be late in the morning, and the sun was high enough in the sky-  
  
But there was no sky.  
  
Instead there was water, full of floating plants and silt, like a fish tank that hasn't been cleaned properly. And there were beings that lived in this water and were no less filthy: merpeople with green hair and yellow eyes and gray skin and silver fish-tails that looked far more muscular and alive than did their human halves.  
  
They were threatening and taunting one of their own. No, it couldn't be; this merman wore trousers and a shirt, and his head was much more human looking. Except that he had gills like a giant fish. Gills, and brilliant green eyes and a lightning-bolt mark on his head.  
  
Harry, she tried to speak, but again only a bubble came out.  
  
Again she tried to move her head, but it would not move, or could not. All she could do was look straight ahead at whatever was in her field of vision, which at the moment was the merboy who looked like Harry Potter and, coming closer out of the underwater twilight, what seemed to be Cedric Diggory, except that his head was now too large for his body. Bighead Cedric reached into his pants pocket, pulled out a knife, and cut the ropes that Cho didn't even realize were holding her. He grabbed the collar of her robes and swam toward the surface, pulling her along, and it was a pleasant feeling, traveling this way, not having to do anything, just being drawn along by someone else-  
  
In that instant, she bobbed up to the surface. The spell broken, Cho suddenly came wide-awake, and all that she had dreamed or thought she had dreamed beneath the surface of the lake vanished. The immediate problem was staying afloat.  
  
This was solved when Cedric put his arm around her waist. "Don't struggle," he said, "just relax. I have you now; you're all right."  
  
Yes, Cho thought, as she let Cedric swim her into shore; I'm all right.  
  
She hardly noticed the cheering and applause as Cedric got her within a few yards of the shore. There, the water was too shallow to keep swimming; Cho tried to stand but staggered; she was helped at once by Madam Pomfrey, who placed her on a bench, sat Cedric beside her, wrapped them both in heavy blankets and made them drink a warming potion. Cho's robes were still drenched under the blankets, and lake water was running into her eyes and mouth from her hair. She tried to wipe her head with the blanket.  
  
"Wait just a minute, Miss Chang!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. "I've rather a handful just now!" The nurse was seating Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger next to them on the bench, wrapping them both in blankets as well.  
  
"What-what just happened?" Cho asked Cedric, her voice shaking from the wet and cold that the blankets and even the potion did little to ease. "Dumbledore said something about rescue ."  
  
"You were all tied up down there," Cedric said through slightly chattering teeth. "We had an hour to rescue you. That stupid egg gave off a poem that told us, so we've really had all this time to prepare. Didn't seem to help much in the moment, though."  
  
"We were all tied down? But where are the others?" Cho looked around anxiously. "Where's Harry?!"  
  
The moment she spoke, three heads broke the surface of the lake, one of them belonging to Harry Potter. She sighed in relief and relaxed on the bench, the cold and wet forgotten for the moment. Harry was safe, and Ron Weasley was safe, and even Gabrielle the young Beauxbatons girl-  
  
Madam Pomfrey bundled up this last group to come out of the lake and fed them potion. Dumbledore and the judges put their heads together to figure out the scoring, while Fleur Delacour thanked both Harry and Ron for rescuing her sister by kissing them on the cheeks. This gave Cho a slightly upset stomach, although she wasn't quite sure why.  
  
When Ludo Bagman announced the scoring, he said that Cedric was the first back with his "hostage"-still a concept Cho could not quite accept. However, when he said that Cedric was awarded 47 points out of 50, the missing three points for being late, she smiled happily at Cedric.  
  
"Almost perfect marks; let's see your father complain about that!"  
  
"He'll find a way," Cedric nodded.  
  
By now Bagman was announcing the points for Harry Potter. Harry got 45 points, which left him tied with Cedric for first place. But when he explained that Harry stayed past the time only to make sure all the hostages were safe, not just his own, Cho buried her face in her hands.  
  
"Something wrong?" Cedric asked.  
  
"I-still have the chills," Cho said through her fingers.  
  
In truth, Cho didn't want Cedric to see her like this, on the point of tears. He risked it all, she thought, not just for Ron Weasley. He wanted to save me; he wanted to save all of us. Bless you, Harry Potter.  
  
Madam Pomfrey directed them all back to the castle; they went to the hospital wing where they were given dry clothes and fresh robes and told to change in the lavatories. Cho ignored Hermione, but kept taking covert glances at the Delacour sisters. She told herself it was because she was curious about their being part veela, and wondering what they looked like undressed.  
  
Perhaps it was a good thing that the sisters didn't stop fussing with each other; as they shed garment after garment, Cho found it harder to glance at them, and soon she was staring openly. Their skin was flawless, their now- dry hair was flawless. Even the immature body of Gabrielle fascinated Cho in a way she knew was totally unacceptable.  
  
When she stepped out of the hospital wing, Cedric was waiting in the corridor. "Could you walk with me for a bit, Cho Li?"  
  
She nodded. Cho expected him to take her to the garden, but instead he walked with her along the lake, to the now-deserted bleachers.  
  
Cedric spoke first: "Doesn't seem real, now, and it was only an hour ago."  
  
"Yes, it was-strange. Cedric, I think I asked this already, but now I need to know-why me? You knew we'd be tied up underwater; you said so."  
  
"Well, I, I mean, I was sure the Ministry and Dumbledore wouldn't let anything happen."  
  
"So you let me get put down there so that you could get me out. Do you think that proves that I'd be the one you'd . oh, I can't even say it. Sounds so conceited."  
  
"But it's the truth, and there's lots of reasons why I think that. You're a brilliant Seeker."  
  
"Well, I worked damned hard for that."  
  
"I know; we all know. Broken bones and all; you're as much a celebrity among all the teams as Harry Potter, you know."  
  
Now Cho really started to blush. "I . I didn't know."  
  
"Well. Roger saw to it that we all knew. There's that, and you're brilliant. Of course, you wouldn't have been Sorted into Ravenclaw if you weren't. All that's on top of yesterday."  
  
"Yesterday?"  
  
"I've had many a good cry in that garden, Cho Li, but always alone. Now I- I don't think I want that anymore. You made me feel comforted; you gave me peace I've rarely known, and all without saying a word."  
  
"That's, that's wonderful of you to say, but ."  
  
"Wait! I won't be able to finish it if I don't say it now. Cho Li, I think you . you're beautiful."  
  
Cho wouldn't have tried to think of herself as beautiful-especially not now, feeling the lake water and bits of seaweed still sticking to her skin and hair. With the memory of her mother's angry words ringing in her memory, she violently shook her head. "No, no. I'm not. I mean, I can name a dozen girls in each House who are prettier than I."  
  
Cedric put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. "I can't," he said, softly and simply.  
  
And he lowered his mouth to hers.  
  
When he broke the kiss, the instant their lips parted, Cedric murmured, "Cho Li, I love you."  
  
Cho backed away from him, as if his head was still grotesquely oversized. "I, Ced, I'm-I have to go, I'm sorry."  
  
"Wait!"  
  
"I have to-- I'll see you later!"  
  
"Where? When??"  
  
"Right here, after classes."  
  
"Cho Li!"  
  
"Cedric, please, I'm sorry, I ." She turned and ran toward the castle.  
  
All the way back to Ravenclaw House she kept the same sentence spinning round and round in her head: Got to think this through. Got to think this through. As she passed through the entrance, she heard the noise from the Great Hall. Everyone seemed to be at lunch; excellent. No answering awkward questions. Cho walked straight to the tapestry in the West Tower, said the password "yclept", touched the spine of her Confucius, walked through the Common Room, and up to her dorm.  
  
Jan Nugginbridge was sitting on her bed, highlighting a recipe in a Potions book with one hand and scratching Coriander's ears with the other. She glanced at Cho; then looked harder. "Oh, Lord above!"  
  
"I know," Cho said ruefully, "I look a fright. It was the blasted Task."  
  
"Not that, yeh fool!" Jan sat up on the edge of the bed, smiling. "Yeh look fine, and better than fine."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Yeh look like Penny did after she started goin' out wi' Percy Weasley. Like my older sister when she came back from evenings with her beau. Cho, yeh're Glowing!"  
  
Cho actually raised a hand in front of her face to see if it was true.  
  
"Yeh can't see it yersel'!" Jan laughed. "So tell me wha' happened! I wants ter be the firs' teh hear!"  
  
"At least come with me while I wash up! I can still feel the lake on me and I can't stand it much longer." Cho was out of her robes and clothes before she got to the door of the lavatory. She was at the sink in her underwear, washing her face and arms, while Jan stood in the doorway.  
  
"Long story short, then."  
  
Cho could hardly believe it was herself speaking: "I got kissed!"  
  
"I knew it!" Jan shouted. "The Glow don' lie! Was it Roger?"  
  
"No," Cho almost giggled at the idea.  
  
"Not Harry Potter!?"  
  
That one actually made Cho feel a bit uncomfortable, but she shrugged it off until later as she said, "Right: not Harry."  
  
"Who, then?"  
  
As if it hasn't been obvious since the Yule Ball, Cho thought. She kept her eyes down, looking at her hands under the taps, and said in a small voice: "Cedric Diggory."  
  
"You jammy little thing!" Jan rushed into the lavatory and hugged Cho, even though she'd just taken off her bra and was standing there only in panties, drawing a bath. "I'm so happy fer yeh! Come on, then; details!"  
  
"Can't I have a bath first?" Cho laughed.  
  
"An leave me hangin' like Guy Fawkes? Not bloody likely!"  
  
So it was that a naked Cho Chang soaked in a hot tub and shampooed her hair while a fully robed Jan Nugginbridge sat on the floor next to her, all smiles. She had to repeat several details of the Second Task two or three times. One thing she didn't talk about-something she tried to not even think about-was the kiss, and how it made her feel.  
  
At one point, Cho stopped and turned to Jan. "What color am I; the Glow, I mean?"  
  
Jan leaned back a bit and cocked her head to one side. "Red. Bright red, wi' a goldish color aroun' the edge."  
  
Like a Fireball, Cho thought to herself.  
  
"O' course, Cedric will have the same Glow," Jan continued. "If he don', summat's gone wrong wi' the Glow, or wi' me eyes."  
  
"I wish it was really that easy to know," Cho said.  
  
"Oh, it still ain't goin' ter be easy. Ye'll fight, o' course; ever'one does. Jes' don' never forget wha' yeh mean teh each other."  
  
A clock chimed in the next room. "The others'll be up soon. What'll yeh tell 'em?"  
  
"Nothing!" Even Cho was surprised by the force of her answer. "I mean, this is all so much, I really have to think about this."  
  
"There ain' nothin' lef' ter think about."  
  
"There is for me. My parents, mostly. I don't know what I'll say to them. What time is it? I have to get dressed!" Cho jumped out of the tub, quickly toweled herself off, then ran into the dormitory to put on fresh clothes.  
  
"Yeh," Jan sighed happily, "I guess yeh jus' need time ter get used to it all. All right, I'll hold me tongue."  
  
Cho spent the rest of the day in classes, but could barely concentrate. In Transfiguration she was supposed to turn a rooster into a cat, but hers kept turning into a badger. She didn't even think about what it meant until Professor McGonagall looked down at her and said, "We all know you're supporting the Hufflepuff Champion, Miss Chang, but you still need to complete the assignment." Her face burned blood red as the rest of the class laughed.  
  
Herbology was better, quieter. She and Pablo Molina pruned a Lithuanian ice-thistle tree, harvesting the thistles that cooled the blood better than any potion known. It was demanding work, because the thistles were surrounded by dozens of long, sharp thorns. One actually punctured one of Cho's dragon-hide gloves and almost sliced into her skin.  
  
As soon as class was over, Cho dashed around the lake, toward the bleachers, her mind still racing with all the arguments, the counter- arguments, the considerations. What could she possibly tell Cedric? And why? And what would it mean for the rest of the year? And for the rest of her life?  
  
When she got there, the bleachers were already gone. The tent was gone. All that was there was Cedric Diggory, sitting on a large rock on the edge of the lake. He stood up when he saw her approaching.  
  
When she came within five yards of him, she stopped. He simply stood there, the rays of the setting sun lighting him in his Hufflepuff Prefect robes. She walked toward him very slowly, until only the width of a hand separated them.  
  
"You want to tell me something?" Cedric asked.  
  
Cho had a hundred things to tell him: about the Glow, about trusting him never to hurt her, about her nervousness when she thought of the future. But she looked up into his gray eyes, and smiled.  
  
"I want to tell you, Cedric Diggory, that sometimes Ravenclaws think too much. But the more I think about this, I come back to the same answer. I think I love you, too."  
  
Again, Cedric moved to kiss her; this time, Cho wasn't taken by surprise.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 60, wherein Cho and Cedric find joy in Hogsmeade and talk about sex in the garden. 


	60. How Close is Too Close

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
60. How Close is Too Close  
  
Harry Potter stayed in Cho's mind, but dimly, like a memory one comes to doubt. She thought of Harry when she went to Hogsmeade with Cedric, half- remembering the promise she'd made to herself. She thought of trying to find some other way to make things up to Harry if she saw him in the halls of Hogwarts-which happened less and less frequently. As studiously as Harry tried to avoid seeing Cho with Cedric, Cho seemed not to notice Harry the few times they did pass-not notice him, that is, until they had passed each other, and the chance to speak was lost. In the end, she vaguely resolved that they should become friends after the Tournament was over. There was no reason why the three of them shouldn't be friends . . .  
  
Harry briefly crossed her mind when she read in Witch Weekly that Hermione Granger, who Rita Skeeter had claimed was Harry Potter's secret love, had abandoned him in favor of Viktor Krum. As dubious as Skeeter's reputation was, Krum had indeed chosen to rescue Hermione during the Second Task.  
  
"Pay it no mind," Jan said offhandedly at dinner when Cho mentioned the article. "Ain't no Glow between those two either. She's jes' lookin' fer summat to write."  
  
Nonetheless, she couldn't keep down the thought that, when the article hoped that Harry would "bestow his heart on a worthier candidate", that such a candidate might have been herself-  
  
--before Cedric came along, of course.  
  
xxx  
  
Two important thoughts occupied Cho's mind almost constantly between the Second and Third Task. For one, the Ordinary Wizarding Level exams would be held in the two weeks just before the end of the Tournament. She was studying for those important milestones, alone and with groups of other Fifth Year Ravenclaws-when she wasn't with Cedric. And she was with Cedric as often as she could be. And when he wasn't beside her, he was usually on her mind.  
  
They were very obviously together when they went into Hogsmeade the day after the Witch Weekly article appeared. They'd walked to town hand in hand, and as soon as they arrived on the main road, Cedric led Cho off to a small side street.  
  
"Is this another secret garden?" she joked.  
  
Cedric merely said, "You'll see."  
  
They came to a building whose sign read Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. It seemed completely out of place in Hogsmeade, a wizarding community which didn't bother to disguise its magic, and so had some highly eccentric architecture. This shop, however, looked like any of a hundred Muggle teashops, especially built to impress foreign visitors. It was the embodiment of "quaint".  
  
It was even moreso on the inside. The main room was crowded with small circular tables, each just big enough for two. Each table had a pair of wrought-iron chairs, and about half of the tables and chairs were occupied. Couples were talking in low voices, holding hands, kissing, or simply gazing happily at each other.  
  
Mrs. Puddifoot bustled up to them at once. Cedric ordered two coffees. Once she had gone, Cho asked, "Why didn't you ask?"  
  
"Ask what?"  
  
"What I wanted."  
  
"Oh." Cedric blushed. "Sorry; no offense. It's just what they do here."  
  
"I can see what they do here," Cho said as she glanced around at the amorous couples. "I don't think I recognize anyone."  
  
"You could say this place is for a slightly older crowd." Cedric started to say something else, when the door opened and another couple walked in: Roger Davies and Fleur Delacour. Cho quickly turned away.  
  
"You needn't bother," Cedric chuckled. "I don't think he knows you're here, or if he does he doesn't care. He can't see anything but the veela."  
  
"Cedric, how do you know about this place? Have you been here before?"  
  
"Well, yes," he said, his face colouring again, "in a manner of speaking."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"When I was Fourth-Year I first saw this place on a Valentine's Day weekend visit. I wasn't with anyone, but I looked through the glass, and saw all the couples. To tell the truth, I despaired of ever being in here, of ever finding someone to love me this much. And now that I know how you feel about me, I wanted to finally walk through that door." He paused for a moment, studying Cho's face. "You don't like it, do you?"  
  
"It's not that," she smiled at Cedric, taking his hand across the table. "You certainly don't need all this to prove anything to me. All these romantic trappings; I think they're for people who don't already have romance in their lives. I don't like flowery speeches or a new little gift every day of the week or any of that. You never have to do any of that. Being yourself is more than enough."  
  
"I feel the same, you know. I really do. It's just something about this place."  
  
Mrs. Puddifoot arrived just then with the coffee. As soon as she left, Cho leaned toward Cedric, giving him a soft, lingering kiss. When they broke the kiss a minute later, Cho took a sip of the coffee from its delicate china cup.  
  
"I could get used to this," she smiled.  
  
"What, the coffee?" Cedric asked, "or the place or . . ."  
  
Cho simply kept smiling.  
  
xxx  
  
In the evenings and on the weekends of the spring of that year, as the days grew longer and the weather grew warmer, they didn't merely spend time in the secret garden. They actually worked it, digging the soil and plantings starts and cuttings from the greenhouse. Of course, it took longer than it should have, for they would leave off pressing the plants and flowers into the earth so that they could twine their fingers around each other's.  
  
In the end, the garden was bordered with red-and-green leafed coleus and blue and yellow impatiens flowers. The other plants would come later, but these border plants would symbolize Hogwarts for the two of them.  
  
They met in the garden on the last Saturday in May just after dinner. Cho was ten minutes early, but by now the garden wall recognized her wand as well as Cedric's and opened for her too. Cedric was five minutes late. Without a word of apology, he gathered Cho in his arms and lowered his mouth to hers.  
  
This kiss was just as intoxicating as their first, and all the others in between. It felt to Cho as if a fog was gathering in her brain, a fog that was somehow seeping out to surround them from prying, jealous eyes, from those who had never known such love . . .  
  
But Cho's mind wasn't so fogged that she didn't notice that Cedric's hands had drifted from her shoulders to her back; after lingering there, to her hips; after lingering there, slowly passing around to the top of her buttocks.  
  
Cho pulled away from him with a start. She couldn't even find the words at first to ask him what he was doing. She didn't have to; her accusing look was enough.  
  
"Cho Li, I'm, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean anything rude by that. I just got sort of, well, caught up, I guess."  
  
"Are you telling me that this hasn't happened before? Perhaps with some other girl?"  
  
"What? Cho Li, first of all, you are not some other girl. Even before this happened, I knew you were special. I just didn't realize that I would be . . ."  
  
"Cedric, please, answer me plainly. Have you ever touched another girl like that?"  
  
"Honestly, no."  
  
This answer did not reassure Cho at all. "Am I supposed to feel flattered, then?"  
  
"I . . . You . . . Damn it, this is awful. Can't we just start tonight over again?"  
  
"No, not until we've dealt with this. Does touching me like that mean that you want to have sex with me?"  
  
Cedric blushed a dozen shades of pink; but before he could say anything, Cho turned away from Cedric and spoke again, in a soft, scared voice, with all the harshness and accusation gone: "I only ask because . . . because, sometimes, I think I want to have sex with you."  
  
This seemed to make Cedric even more nervous. "Are you . . . are you sure?"  
  
"Yes, I'm sure, and no, I'm not sure at all, and it scares me. It's as if I can't control my own thoughts or feelings; that they're controlling me. I lie awake in bed for hours, and my thoughts go-places I didn't even know I knew." She kicked at a clod of dirt. "I hate losing control like this! And I hate wanting to lose control." She looked up at Cedric with a sad smile. "Can't help being a Ravenclaw, I guess."  
  
Cedric simply nodded.  
  
"And I'm supposed to be so smart, being in Ravenclaw and all, except that when it comes to this, I know so little, and I have to guess at so much, and I just know my information's all wrong and-and-I don't even know which one of us is supposed to get undressed first!" At this, Cho burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. "I'm sorry; I just-you probably hate me now."  
  
Cedric sat on the bench and motioned for Cho to sit next to him. He waited a minute while she dried her eyes with her robes. "Cho Li, I have never loved you more than I do at this moment. What have you heard about me?"  
  
She had to stop and think. "Just the usual, I suppose. A good Seeker; maybe a bit thick. Nothing really bad."  
  
"Good. I've tried to keep it that way, because of something my dad once told me. Yes, I'm going to talk about him again, but this time he gave me some good advice. He said, 'Never make a promise that you don't intend to keep.' He was speaking generally, but I especially apply that to any girl I've ever gone out with. I've never pretended to be someone I'm not, and I've never talked up a load of rubbish just in order to get close to someone."  
  
Cho nodded. "You're very . . . honourable, then. You should be proud."  
  
"Yes, and I'm not going to change my ways anytime soon. You deserve the truth. And the truth is, yes, I've thought about you and me and, you know, sex. Thought about it a lot since the Yule Ball. I suppose I could try to figure out something to say that would sweep you off your broom, but you said you hate that sort of thing, and I can respect that. Can we maybe stop talking about this until summer, when the Tournament's all finished and I'm out of Hogwarts?"  
  
"Why would that make a difference?"  
  
"Because then I could . . ."  
  
"Cedric, what is it?"  
  
"ask you to marry me."  
  
I'm ill, Cho thought. Something's gone wrong with my hearing. He spoke just now, and he said something that sounded like, but he couldn't have said . . . but I'm only sixteen! . . . I'm a Fifth-Year Ravenclaw . . . I'm . . .  
  
I'm lost.  
  
Help me, Cedric; I'm lost. Say something, something to help me find my way, because I'm lost . . .  
  
It was only three seconds of silence between Cedric's last words and his next: "Are you all right?"  
  
"I . . . No, Cedric, I'm not right at all. I want to just leap into your arms and say yes, I will, but I . . . I can't. There's still two more years here for me, and my parents, and . . . Cedric, I . . . I truly love you, but even that has taken some getting used to. You just asked if we could be together for the rest of our lives, and that's just too big a thing to think about right now. I'm sorry."  
  
"I'm not," Cedric smiled as he stood up. "I told myself I'd ask, and I did. If it bothers you, then that's the end of it. But . . . is there any chance that things would look a bit different to you with time?"  
  
Cho had to smile too. "Almost certainly."  
  
Cedric wrapped his long arms around Cho in the hug she'd grown to depend on, almost like a narcotic, in recent weeks. It made her feel so warm, so safe . . . so loved.  
  
"I'll ask again, you know," Cedric said, barely loud enough for her to hear. "Maybe on the day you pass all your NEWTs, or the day you get chosen to play for Tutshill or Holyhead or some such team. Or maybe I'll be by this time next year, doing whatever it is dad has planned for me. But I'd be a fool to walk away from you without ever asking again."  
  
"So would I, if I were to tell you no. I just need time; time to get to where I can say yes and not be frightened of it all."  
  
"Then time you shall have, Cho Li. It's the only gift I can give you, anyway." They slowly walked back to the castle, their arms around each other.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 61, wherein Cho and Lotus have a difference of opinion. 


	61. An Exchange of Owls

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
61. An Exchange of Owls  
  
"AAARGH! WHY DOES SHE DO THIS?!"  
  
Every head in the Ravenclaw Fifth Year Girls dormitory turned to Cho. She was at her writing desk, her back to the others, and had just uncharacteristically screamed about something. They all had an idea what.  
  
It was the first Sunday in June. Starting tomorrow, the Fifth Year students at Hogwarts would have no classes for two weeks, but would have to endure something much worse: the O.W.L.s. These were among the first tests given to examine a student's comprehensive knowledge of both the theory and practice of magic. They would sit for exams on theory in the mornings, and demonstrate their abilities in the afternoons. The importance of the tests was such that special examiners were sent to Hogwarts from the Ministry of Magic in London; they would proctor the examinations, then grade the results.  
  
Every Fifth Year student became far more stressed than usual as the Ordinary Wizarding Levels approached. Cheering Charms and Composure Potions were always being administered to one student or another, sometimes more than once a day. But Cho had managed to keep her composure; she hadn't needed any brain-boosting or mood-leveling aides. Until now.  
  
Letitia Groondy, being a Prefect, took it upon herself to keep the other girls in her year on an even keel. She walked over to Cho's desk and set a goblet of Composure Potion down on it. Cho swiftly grabbed it up, drank it all at once, then slammed the goblet down. "Do you have any more?"  
  
"Yes, but you're not getting any. You'll end up sleeping for two days. Just give this one time to take effect."  
  
Cho put her head down on the desk. Letitia was right, of course, but she didn't understand. It wasn't just the O.W.L.s. It was—her. How could she do this to Cho, with the O.W.L.s just about to start?  
  
xxx  
  
It had actually started a week before. Cho had finally decided that her love for Cedric, and his for her, should not be kept from her parents any longer. It was only right to send them an owl. Still, she found she could not work directly up to the subject:  
  
"Dear Mummy and Daddy:  
  
I'm sorry that I haven't written more often these past few weeks, but I'm sure that you can understand the reason. My Ordinary Wizarding Level exams are coming up very soon, and everyone in my year has been reading and practicing spells night and day. I have too, of course. I don't know what sort of exams you had to take in China when you were my age, but these are going to cover much of what I've learned these past five years. I expect you still think of me as I was back then, and are surprised by the changes that have taken place. I'm surprised as well, but mainly because of one change I haven't told you about yet."  
  
Come on, Cho, she scolded herself for pausing. You can't put it off any longer. Like the old saying says, "grasp the dragon's tail firmly or don't grasp it at all." She sighed and started writing again:  
  
"Something happened during the Second Task. It wasn't to do with being underwater or anything like that. But I was pulled out of the lake by Cedric Diggory. He's one of the Champions, but he's also been a friend of mine. He was the one who asked me to the Yule Ball. I didn't think anything of this until after the Task. We were talking, and he said things to me that I'm too embarrassed to put down on parchment—how I'm smart and pretty and everything." She deliberately avoided the word "beautiful", which really seemed to be a red flag for her mother. "And then, for the first time in my life, he kissed me."  
  
Cho stopped writing, half-expecting the parchment to burst into flames. All she saw, though, was Quan Yin ruffling her feathers on the windowsill. She dipped her quill in the inkwell and continued:  
  
"I didn't know what to think at first. All the way back to the House I thought I wasn't sure about how I felt about him, but one of the other girls just took one look at me and she knew! Maybe I should have known, too, if I hadn't been so worried about it. It was my first kiss, and from the way I've felt since then, I don't want it to be my last!"  
  
She wasn't about to tell her mother how often they'd kissed in the past three months; Cho never stopped to count, although it must have run to over a hundred.  
  
"This has got to be one of the most important moments in anyone's life. I'm sure that it was for the two of you. Believe me that I have not neglected my classes or homework. In fact," and Cho smiled as she wrote this, "I've been getting in a lot of extra Herbology practice, so that I can be of help in the family business. And I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner. I wasn't trying to keep anything from you, but rather I was trying to get used to an overwhelming change in my life. But it's a good change, and I'm happier than I've ever been, and I hope that you can be happy for me too."  
  
Cho read and reread the letter several times before she decided that it was convincing. She tied it to Quan Yin and sent the owl off to London.  
  
Cho should have known that her mother's response wouldn't be pleasant. It arrived the very next morning, and it was as mean as it was short:  
  
"All that talk about the kiss, and not a word about who kissed you. Is he some gwailo?"  
  
Cho's first instinct was to react in kind, to give as good as she got: But of course, mummy; you send me to a school with nothing but gwailo. Did you expect me to start dating one of the ghosts? But she decided to save that letter for another day. Instead she wrote:  
  
"Yes, you could say he's a gwailo. You could also say that his name is Cedric Diggory, that he plays Quidditch for Hufflepuff House, that in fact he's their Captain and Seeker, that he's one of the Tri-Wizard Champions, that at the end of the term he leaves Hogwarts (he's actually excused from taking NEWTs because he's one of the Champions), and that his father is Amos Diggory of the Magical Creatures division of the Ministry of Magic. Daddy's done business with him, so you certainly know him too. You could also say that Cedric is warm and kind-hearted and talented and funny and tall and handsome. You could say that he's even asked me to teach him a few words of Mandarin Chinese, although he keeps getting it wrong; he says "ni ho" instead of "ni hao" and his inflections are all wrong, but at least he's interested and he keeps trying. You could say that he loves me very much, and that I have come to love him."  
  
Cho paused, thinking. This next paragraph might tell the tale:  
  
"Mummy and Daddy, you know that I have never tried to sneak behind your backs on anything. I remember that 'a Chang always walks proudly in the front door'. But what I am going to ask of you now is very important to me. As I wrote, Cedric will leave Hogwarts in a month. His father wants to find him a berth in the Ministry." Cho decided not to mention that Cedric wanted to try out for a professional Quidditch team instead. "I want to write to him at the least, and to see him whenever I'm able, and to do so with your blessing. He has been a very dear friend, and I know that, if you met him, you would approve of him completely."  
  
This time, two days passed before the reply arrived. Like the previous letter, it was written by Lotus, and it was long. Rather than read it at breakfast, Cho took it up to her room to read:  
  
"It seems that, for the past three months, you have done as you pleased with this Cedric, and you didn't see fit to tell us one word about it. You ask us to trust you now, after all that time, now that the damage is done. However, you have shown that we cannot trust you to be honest with us after all. No matter how you dress it up, no matter how many excuses you make, your conduct has been deceitful and a disgrace to the family. I am confident that nothing truly damaging was done to you by this boy, for we trust the school to look after your well-being in matters like this. However, we cannot trust you any longer.  
  
They say that a child despises its parents at your age, and no doubt you will despise what this letter says. You must realize, however, that you had written and asked that your own judgment be allowed to prevail over the considerations of your father and me, who have had many more years of life experience than you. Our decisions in such matters are based on our experience and our knowledge, which even you must concede are broader than your own youthful and narrow view of the world.  
  
You have presumed to challenge our judgment in the past, such as your involvement in Quidditch, and we have probably allowed you far more latitude than was wise or healthy. In this latest request, though, you pass the limits of our patience. How can you presume to speak of love at your age? How can you presume to know that his motives are as honourable as you claim? Are your Divination marks so perfect that you can see everything that will happen accurately and only speak to us afterwards?  
  
Perhaps we have waited too long to tell you this, but now it must be told: you have no basis at all to claim that you know about love. If all you do is what pleases you, with no submission to older and wiser authority, then you risk a great deal; not merely your education but your very future happiness. It is because we value your well being more than you seem to value it that we must withhold our blessing or approval of this friendship. You must explain all this to the boy, and, if he is as decent as you paint him, he will understand and agree with what we say. We can only hope that he will succeed where we have failed in convincing you of the dangers of the path you walk."  
  
Cho sat at her desk for a full hour reading and rereading the letter, and growing angrier and angrier with her mother with each passing minute. Even by Lotus's standards, it was a long, impassioned and eloquent letter, and most children, having been thus lectured by their mothers, would stop and consider their actions. However, most children were not born in the Year of the Horse, and Cho Chang was in full gallop:  
  
"What makes you think I have to live your life?" she wrote back. "What makes you think that you understand my life so much better than I? You understand the Chinese culture that created you and sustained you; the culture that you fled when you had to, in order to settle in Britain and create a new life in a new culture. Like it or not, mother, I am a product of that new culture. The ghosts of Hogwarts are far more real to me than the spirits of my ancestors, and the cobblestones of Diagon Alley are my real home.  
  
You may talk about your experience and your wisdom being beyond mine, but I have experienced a love that is surely beyond you—a love that is surely one of a kind. And holding up your own marriage to me as a model only makes me realize how little I want to follow the path you walked. Yours is the old- fashioned Chinese way: cook for the man, keep his house, give him sex and tend his children. But I was born and raised halfway around the world from China, in the final years of one century and the beginnings of another. I must follow my path, not yours, and I must do so by following my heart.  
  
If we cannot have your blessing, at least give us your understanding. Understand that Britain is not China, that Cedric and I are not our parents, and that the happiness we will find together may be different from your experience, but is no less real."  
  
When Lotus read this letter she was livid, and actually had to leave off working in the shoppe to compose herself. Part of Chang Xiemin wanted to disown his daughter on the spot, but part of him also remembered writing the same sort of letter to his parents when he was her age. "Let's wait until after the O.W.L.s and the Tournament," he counseled his wife. "Once these things are done, surely we can talk sense to them. Besides, she's in school for two more years, and everything might change in that time."  
  
Lotus didn't want to leave Cho's challenge unanswered, but Cho was right about one thing: her husband had laid out the course of action, and she would act accordingly. That Saturday night she wrote a note to Cho and sent Quan Yin off north with it. And on Sunday morning, the day before the exams, Cho received a note from her mother, a note that didn't even mention Cedric or anything about him:  
  
"Your father and I trust that you will do well in your exams."  
  
And this was why Cho screamed. It was the frustration of trying to talk to a mother who simply would not listen.  
  
There was no time for anger, though; she would sit for her Charms exam in less than twenty-four hours. Feeling the Composure Potion take effect, she reached for the set of Miranda Goshawk's spell books.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 62, wherein Cho meets Cedric's parents on the day of the Third Task 


	62. The Day of the Third Task

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG

By monkeymouse

NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.

Rated: PG

Spoilers: Everything

xxx

62. The Day of the Third Task

Cho Chang awoke on Thursday, 24 June, 1995, with butterflies in her stomach, as if she were going to face the Third Task and not the Champions.  After tonight, she thought, I'll settle down.  The Ministry people will go home, and the Prophet reporter will go home, and maybe Cedric will be Champion, or maybe Harry will, but tonight it will all be over.

"'Ere, Cho," Jan interrupted her thoughts, "yeh haven't any plans for tonight?  Fer after, I mean?"

"No, we'll just have to wait and see what happens."

"Don' count on bein' alone wi' Cedric.  Win er lose, I'm sure there'll be some big Tournament do at the end.  And yeh know, his parents'll be here."

Cho knew; she knew very well, and the mention of them woke the butterflies back up.  She had seen Amos Diggory only once—at the World Quidditch Cup almost a year ago—but had heard about him from Cedric on an almost daily basis since the Second Task, almost four months ago.

Has it really been so long since he first kissed me? Cho wondered.  It feels as if we've loved each other all our lives, and I just never knew it.  Why can't his father see him for what he is, the way I can?

But, as Cedric had told her in their secret garden, Amos Diggory had problems that he couldn't solve, except through his son.

One Saturday afternoon just before the O.W.L.s, they were working the garden, stopping to rest and sip cold pumpkin juice and just be near each other.  "When Fudge was first up for the top spot," Cedric told her, "there were so many deals being made.  He wasn't the only candidate; lots of wizards were up for it.  But Fudge was the better dealmaker.  He promised Dad a spot in Magical Creatures, with the understanding that he'd head the Division when it came open.  Well, when it did, Fudge went back on his word and passed over my dad.  There's been bad blood between them since, and he's stuck where he is.  That's why he puts everything on me, you see.  He wants me to be the successful wizard he'll never be."

"I just wish he could be nicer about it, though.  His letters sound as if he's never satisfied."

"It's just his way," Cedric shrugged.  "I'm used to it by now, or maybe just resigned to it.  Even though I don't have to take any NEWTs, he started owling me right after my name was drawn.  'I don't want to hear about you skiving off of one minute of class work!  You're not going to disgrace the family name by coming out of Hogwarts with good looks and an empty head.'"

"How did you ever manage?  Before Hogwarts and the garden, I mean."

"My mum; I could usually use her to find a way around my dad.  She can tell him off if she has to.  And if she couldn't find a way around him, there was no way to be found."

Cho remembered all this now, as she went down to breakfast.  I have to owl him every day this summer, she thought.  He'll be stuck with them, and he'll need owls to lift his spirits.  But then so would a visit . . .

She sat at the Ravenclaw table next to Sally Fawcett.  Before she touched a bite of food, she asked, "You live near the Diggorys, right?"

Fawcett nodded.  "There are only a few of us near Ottery St. Catchpole, but the Weasleys live a few miles away."

"I, well, I want to visit Cedric during the summer, and it would be a problem if his parents said no.  So, can I Floo over to your house and walk to the Diggorys from there some time?"

"Of course!" Sally beamed.  "Any time, day or night.  Of course, the night time visits are much more romantic."  Sally dropped her voice to a whisper.  "Be honest, Cho; is he also a Champion in bed?"

Cho looked down at her plate, her cheeks burning.  "Even if I could answer that, I wouldn't."

"Have you seen this?!"  Diana Fairweather stepped up to the table and threw a copy of the Daily Prophet down and sat next to Cho.  The lead article was once again about Harry Potter.  "Now they're saying that Dumbledore hushed it up when Harry spoke Parseltongue two years ago.  Hushed up, indeed!  Flitwick talked about it and all."

"The Prophet seems to be going against Potter; can't imagine why," Fawcett said.

"Well, I can imagine it," Vincent Krixlow spoke up.  "The Prophet publishes under Ministry control.  Only one of the Champions has Ministry connections.  Q.E.D.  This is all Diggory's doing."

Fleur Delacour, who was accepted at the Ravenclaw table more openly after the Second Task, which seemed to teach her some much-needed humility, listened closely to Vincent.  "You mean pere or fils?"

"They're all one.  How can one act without the other?"

Cho was tempted to jump in and describe exactly what the difference was, but held her tongue.  Besides, at that moment, Harry Potter himself arrived for breakfast, and the level of noise at the Griffindor table grew.  As her classes were over after the O.W.L.s, Cho decided to take a book outside to read.  Cedric would no doubt be busy with Tournament matters.  She had just left the Great Hall.

"Cho Li!"

Cedric was halfway up the stone steps, dashing up from the lawn.  Cho met him at the top of the steps.  "Ni ha!"

Cho pursed her lips to keep from laughing.

"Still no good, eh?  Well, time enough to get it right.  I need to borrow you for a minute."

"For what?"

"They're here, and I want you to meet them."

Cho knew exactly who they were.  "You could have warned me!"

"I wasn't warned myself.  Not five minutes after they arrive, they say they want to meet you."

"Really?  I mean, is this a good sign?"

"Won't know until it's over.  So, ready for your Task?"

"We might as well go; I'm already nervous."

"Don't be, love," Cedric gave her a quick kiss.  "We can make this work."

So, hand in hand they went down the steps to the two adults standing on the lawn.

Cho remembered seeing Cedric's parents at the World Cup, but they hadn't been introduced; her father had simply dragged his family along while he talked business, and Cho was simply expected to keep quiet.  Now that there was a possibility that she could marry into this family, Cho studied them more carefully as she approached them.

"Well," Cedric said happily as they stopped in front of his parents, "here she is.  Cho, I'd like you to meet Amos and Celia Diggory."

Amos looked exactly as he had the previous summer: a slightly stocky wizard with rosy cheeks that made him look as if he'd just been exerting himself, framed by a brown beard that seemed in need of a trim.  Celia was thin without appearing gaunt, and even though her eyes looked to Amos as if to say that she would follow his lead, there was also a set to her jaw that told Cho that she'd been in more than a few battles with her husband.  Perhaps even that very day.

Cho's hand twitched, ready to shake their hands, but none was offered.  She quickly bowed instead.  "I'm very pleased to meet you."

Amos spoke up before she'd finished speaking.  "Your people keep a shop in Diagon Alley, don't they?"

Cho didn't like either the tone of his voice or the implications of the question, but she checked herself and answered, as politely as she could: "They're Herbologists there, yes."

Celia touched her husband's arm: "You already knew that, dear; you've done business with them."

Amos shrugged off his wife's hand as if she were a bothersome fly.  "Just making sure they're not claiming to be different from what they are."

Was he trying to provoke her?  Keeping an even tighter rein on her tongue, Cho said, "My family's been Herbologists for many generations in China.  My parents just happen to be the first to come to England."

Cedric rushed in: "She's a brilliant student, dad; I've told you she's a Ravenclaw, haven't I?  She's also their Seeker."

Amos cut his son off.  "Bet you never beat Harry Potter, though.  Cedric did!"

Cho could see Cedric's jaw tighten out of the corner of her eye.  "Yes, sir, I know; I saw that match."

Cedric interrupted again.  "She came within a hair of beating Potter herself last year, though.  It was really quite a match."

No one spoke.  Amos Diggory was still eyeing Cho as if she had just walked out of Knockturn Alley, and his wife and son were nervously waiting for him to say something.  But Cho decided that this couldn't go on any longer.  "It's been a pleasure to meet you, Mister Diggory, Missus Diggory, but I have a House meeting to attend.  If you'll pardon me."  She turned to go, walked up two of the stone steps, then turned back to the Diggory family: "Your son deserves the prize and I hope he gets it."  She spun around and almost ran up the steps to the castle.  Once inside, she broke into a run, not stopping until she got to the tapestry.

"Houyhnhnm."

The tapestry opened.  She dashed inside, through the bookcase and into the Common Room.  Once there, she screamed.

Raina was just coming down the steps from the dormitory.  "What's wrong?"

"Cedric's father!  Two minutes with the man and I couldn't bear another second of him!  Why does he have to be like that?!"

"Are you sure it wasn't my father?  He can be that way sometimes."

"I don't want to think they're all that way sometimes.  Is Letitia around?  Does she have any more Contentment Draught?"

"Snape made her destroy all the extra potion once the O.W.L.s were over.  Surely there's something you can read to calm you down?"

Cho shrugged and walked over to one of the bookcases.  She thought she was familiar with most of the books in the Common Room by now, but one thin black spine caught her eye.  It looked too new to have been there long.

It was a book of Robert Burns' poetry; the same book that Penny Clearwater had received as a Christmas present.  She looked inside for an inscription and found:

"For the Common Room of Ravenclaw, the best library in the best House in the best school I will ever know.  And thanks to CC for listening, for talking, for being a friend."

Why hadn't she told Cho?  Why hadn't SOMEONE told her about this book?  She took it outside to the stone steps, as she'd originally planned, and started reading.  Burns' Scots dialect was like trying to read runes—a class she detested, but it was still interesting.

She was still reading it just before noon when Gabrielle Delacour, Fleur's little sister, ran up the steps toward Cho.

"'Allo!  I'm looking for you!"

"Yes?"

"Monsieur Cedric, he wants you to meet with him."

"What, now?"

Gabrielle nodded.  "'E looked very sad."

Cho got up, put the book in a pocket of her robes, and started down the steps.

"Wait!  He did not say where!"

"I know where.  Thanks, Gabrielle."

She went straight to the garden.  The door was open and she saw Cedric pacing frantically back and forth.

"What's wrong?  Where are your parents?"

"Having lunch with Dumbledore and the Ministry blokes, I think.  Oh, dad's in rare form today.  As soon as you left, Potter shows up, and he starts goading him about last year's match.  My mum had to bark at him to stop it."

"But that isn't what you wanted to tell me, is it?"

Cedric looked at her, sat heavily on the stone bench and shook his head.  "We have a problem."

"Meaning that your father doesn't like me?"

"It, it goes deeper than that."

"How bad can it be?"  He tried to speak, but couldn't.  "Cedric, I have to know.  What did he say exactly?"

Cedric looked up into her eyes, and she could see that he could start crying in a moment.  "Cho, whatever I say, please remember they're his words . . ."

"Tell me!"

Cedric sighed as if his he was giving up his spirit.  "He said, 'Well, sunny Jim, looks like nobody's ever told you about the birds and the bees.  Well, these are the facts of life: you are my only son and heir.  Your mother and I aren't about to go and get another one.  You are the one who will carry on the Diggory name.  And I'll be damned if that name is going to some squinty-eyed little alien.'"

Cho found her mouth was hanging open.  She was prepared for rough language, but she wasn't prepared for the effect the words had on her.  Coldly and levelly, she asked, "And your mother?"

Cedric swallowed.  "No help there, I'm afraid.  Oh, she didn't agree with him, exactly.  She just said, 'You two are really too young to know about such things.'"

There was an awkward moment of silence.  Cho finally asked, "So?"

Cedric simply shook his head.  "I don't know what to do."

Those words made Cho angrier than she could remember being.  "How could you not know?!  Don't tell me you think they might be right!"

"They're not; of course they're not.  But . . ."

"But what?"

"He's my father!  I can't just tell him to disown me."

"Why not?!  That's what I've done!  I've had to defy my family for your sake, and that means a lot more to me; you don't have hundreds of generations of ancestors to contend with.  Stand up to them!"

Cedric opened and closed his mouth, but no sounds came out.

"Never mind," Cho snapped impatiently.  "You obviously have too many things on your mind.  I'll meet you after the Tournament, and maybe, if you've learned how to face down whatever monsters they have, you'll have figured out how to love me.  Good luck."  She ran out of the garden, determined not to start crying until she was safely in her room.

xxx

She couldn't stay in her room for long; the other girls were constantly in and out, dropping things off or picking things up or preparing for the festivities of the Third Task—festivities that Cho wanted no part of.  She ended up going to the library and hiding among the rear stacks.

Part of her hated herself, told her to find Cedric, apologize, get on her knees and bang her forehead on the ground in the old Chinese kowtow, just to let him know that she still loved him, that she would always love him, that they would someday be together forever until death do us part.  But then the other side would answer back: can you really hope for that?  With Cedric not having spine enough to defend you to his parents?  How could he insult you like that, abandoning you without a fight?

She couldn't see a clear way around the dilemma, and hoped that Cedric would sort it out tomorrow or the next day.  Or, better, tonight.  If Harry Potter won the Third Task—which could happen, since he should have won the first and almost won the second—then everyone would go back to fussing over him and nobody would bother Cedric, and she could even see him again tonight, when they could sit down and have a good long talk about everything that they still needed to say.

She hadn't eaten much at breakfast, and had missed lunch altogether, so that, by the time dinner was ready to start, she was very hungry.  However, just as she was leaving the library, Madam Pince called her name.

"Miss Chang!  Here's someone who's been looking for you."

At first she hoped it might be Cedric, apologizing for what happened, ready to defend her with all his strength—but she saw the librarian had been speaking with Madam Phyllida Sprout.

"Come with me, Miss Chang," the Herbology professor said, and marched out of the library without a glance back.

Cho practically had to run to keep up.  Madam Sprout seemed unconcerned with whether Cho was behind her or not.  She led Cho to the greenhouses, then to the wall.  The door was open.

"Miss Chang, can you explain this?"

Cho looked in to the garden, and was struck with a terrible chill.  It had been destroyed.  Every plant that the two of them had planted had been uprooted.  No, that was putting it too mildly; the fierceness with which the plants had been torn from the ground, and the viciousness with which they had been tossed aside, made the garden seem as if a werewolf had attacked it.

Cho's legs could barely carry her to the stone bench, where she fell rather than sat down.

"Miss Chang?"

Not daring to believe it, or not wanting to, Cho simply said, "We quarreled."

Madam Sprout looked around at the damage done.  "Cedric has always needed an outlet of some kind when the pressure becomes too great.  I think you pushed him past his limit."

"Is he all right?  Where is he?!"

"Relax, Miss Chang.  He's with the other Champions; I saw him an hour ago preparing for the Third Task.  He was acting a bit unusual; very decisive, as if he'd sorted out everything in his life.  I had to come back up here to lock up, noticed the door was open, and you know the rest."

Cho couldn't take this all in.  "Decisive?  What does that mean?"

"I can't be sure.  Cedric has always been eager to please, from the day he came here and I had him in Hufflepuff.  But he seems to have made some sort of choice."

"Them or me?" Cho said under her breath.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing."

"We'll have to get along now; things are about to start.  I'll walk you to the stadium."

"No!  That is, I forgot something in my room."  Without another word, Cho dashed back to Ravenclaw, went up to her dormitory, which was now empty except for Jan's cat Coriander, threw herself on her bed and sobbed.

"Forgive me, Cedric," she moaned into the pillow.  "I'll make it up to you, I swear.  Just get through the Tournament so I can see you again."

xxx

Jan Nugginbridge couldn't find a seat, so she hit on another solution.  She was on her broom, watching from behind the last row of seats in what had been the Quidditch stadium.  From her high vantage point she could see almost everything: she saw Krum attacking Diggory (and what looked like Moody making Krum attack–but that wasn't possible); at least, she sort-of saw it.  She was almost blinded by Cedric's Glow, which was more intense than any she had ever seen.  She saw the giant spider attack, she saw Cedric and Harry talking, going toward the Cup, touching it together…and vanishing.

Then she realized something else; she didn't see Cho.  She wasn't sitting anywhere near the Diggory family, or near any of the Ravenclaws.  She should have been able to see the Glow at least.  On a hunch, she wheeled her broom around, headed straight for their dormitory tower.  As she drew near, she could see the Glow from their dormitory window.

Through the window, she saw Cho sitting on the edge of her bed, holding Coriander to her as if it were a stuffed animal.  She seemed to have been crying.  Jan pounded on the window.  The cat jumped out of Cho's grasp.  Cho, red-eyed and bewildered, ran to open the window.

"Wot th' hell are yeh doin' here?" were the first words out of Jan's mouth.

Cho tried to pull herself together.  "Is the Tournament over, then?"

Then Cho recognized the look of worry and fear on Jan's face.  "Cho … summat's gone horrible wrong."

xxx

to be continued in part 63, wherein Cho learns something about Eunice Murray that she never knew

A/N: The almost unpronounceable password is the name of the race of intelligent horses in Jonathan Swift's "Gulliver's Travels".


	63. Two Students Gone

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
63. Two Students Gone  
  
"And then the two of 'em stood there arguin' the toss! Well, Cedric was standin', ennyway. Harry's leg was hurt bad."  
  
Cho and Jan were both on Jan's broom, headed for the stadium. Jan was bringing Cho up to date about the Third Task.  
  
"So the way they're wavin' an' shoutin' at each other, ye'd think neither one of 'em wanted teh get it. But then, Cedric helps Harry up an'--"  
  
They were landing just outside the stadium when the broom swerved suddenly.  
  
"Jan, what's wrong?"  
  
"Wha? Er, nothin'. Jes' not used teh the extra weight, I guess."  
  
But Jan Nugginbridge lied to Cho. What rattled her landing was what happened to Cho: in that instant, her Glow vanished; winked out, like a candle. Jan knew that, under the circumstances, it could only mean one thing.  
  
The babble of a thousand voices in the stadium seemed louder than the crowd at the World Cup. Jan had to shout to make herself heard above the din. "Yeh'd think there'd be some way they could trace 'em. Wonder why they ain't tryin'?"  
  
Cho didn't answer. She was praying to every ancestor she could name, praying that Cedric would come back, so that she could apologize for their argument, so that she could make everything up to him...  
  
There was a sudden crack and a flash and, just at the spot they'd disappeared, the two Hogwarts Champions returned, both lying on the ground. Harry Potter's face was to the grass; in one hand he held the Cup. The other grabbed the wrist of Cedric Diggory. Cedric, whose body was twisted like a cloth doll's, his glazed eyes open yet staring without sight.  
  
He was dead.  
  
A girl in the crowd screamed.  
  
Cho Chang fainted.  
  
xxx  
  
Hours later, Cho began coming back to consciousness. She knew exactly where she was as soon as she opened her eyes--on the day-bed in the Ravenclaw Common Room--and she knew why she had fainted.  
  
"Cedric! Where's Cedric?"   
  
It was a mark of her popularity in the house that almost every Ravenclaw, including Professor Flitwick, was in the Common Room waiting for her to recover. Still, when she asked this, nobody would answer.   
  
"It's true then," she said aloud to herself; "he's dead."   
  
Everyone winced or turned away from her when she said that. "I suppose I fainted at the stadium, but why am I here? Why wouldn't they put me in the hospital wing?" Then she answered her own question: "Because he's there, isn't he? Because they didn't want to put me in the same room with Harry Potter."  
  
Professor Flitwick tugged nervously at one sideburn. "Miss Chang, I understand that you and Mister Diggory were close..."  
  
Cho interrupted sharply: "You don't understand anything!" She must have surprised even herself, because she swallowed hard. "Forgive me, Professor, but, could everyone just leave me alone for a little while?"  
  
"Do you want to come up to the dorm?" Raina asked hesitantly.  
  
"Not yet; it's too close in there. I couldn't stand it for long."  
  
Everyone started drifting upstairs to their dormitories, after approaching Cho with a squeeze of her hand or a pat on the shoulder or a quick clumsy word of sympathy. After a while, she was alone in the Comon Room.  
  
Alone except for Roger Davies.  
  
"Why are you still here?" she said, in a voice that had lost all inflection. "Checking to see if I'm fit to play next year?"  
  
"I get the feeling there's something you've not told anyone else. I'd like you to tell it to me."  
  
"Some juicy little tidbit about me and Cedric? At a time like this you expect me--"  
  
"I expect nothing," he interrupted. "This is worse than a shock; it's a disaster, for all of us, but especially for you. We all know that. We haven't been blind these past few months, you know. But there's something you know that we don't. And I'm asking, not as the Captain but as a friend, for you to tell me."  
  
"Out here? You want me to make a spectacle of myself?"  
  
"Well, I can fix that." Roger drew his wand and drew a circle in the air. "Camera oscura."  
  
Nothing seemed to happen. Cho looked quizically at Roger.  
  
"The Hidden Room Charm. Flitwick only teaches it to the Seventh-Years. It's obvious why. You create a bit of a space where nobody can see or hear you."  
  
As if to prove Roger's point, at that moment Sally Fawcett and Michael Corner came into the Common Room from the bookcase. Their arms were around each other. They looked around and, satisfied that they were alone, they kissed, long and hard, before going up to their separate dormitories. As they kissed, Cho let out a painful sob.  
  
As she watched them climb the stairs, she felt Roger's hand on her shoulder. "Cho?" he said softly.  
  
Cho lost all attempts at composure; throwing herself on Roger's chest, she sobbed into his robes, wailing indistinctly for several minutes before Roger could make out the words: "God help me, Roger! I did it! I killed him! I killed Cedric!"  
  
Roger didn't react to this news at first, but just kept his hands on Cho's shoulders, letting her exhaust herself, before he spoke. "You can't think you killed him."  
  
"But I ... We, we quarreled this afternoon. His parents, they wouldn't, but I shouted and I'm so sorry!" The tears started again.  
  
Roger gently wiped her eyes with the sleeve of his robes. "Sorry, but I didn't get that last bit at all."  
  
"I met Cedric's parents, and they hated me. Roger, the things Mister Diggory said. Cedric told me after, and I told him that he had to stand up to his parents, as I've had to stand up to mine. But he couldn't, and I told him he'd have to or it was over between us. Roger, he was all upset and bothered during the Task. I upset him, and he was thinking about our fight instead of the Task, and it killed him." She broke down sobbing again.  
  
In the middle of the sobbing, Roger led Cho to a nearby loveseat. Roger sat her down; Cho hardly noticed. She didn't notice anything but her grief, and her guilt, and the terrible fact that Cedric was gone forever.  
  
"In the first place," Roger said, "I met with Cedric just before the Task. I was there with Fleur, and I guess I was pretty far gone--you know the way she can be. But I didn't see anything wrong with Cedric."  
  
"You wouldn't. He's been very good at hiding his pain." Then Cho, realizing that she'd spoken of him in the present tense, and remembering anew that he was dead and gone, broke down again.  
  
After a few minutes, Roger spoke again. "Cho, this may sound crazy to you, but I think you need to read a bit of Eunice Murray right about now."  
  
"Why?" she sniffed. "I know the book inside-out and there's nothing there to help me."  
  
"I'm talking about the epilogue."  
  
"There is no epilogue."  
  
"Yes, there is; you just don't know of it. Don't move; I'll be right back." Roger undid the Camera Oscura Charm and dashed up the stairs to his dorm. Cho sat on the loveseat, knowing she could be seen now, and wishing she could shrink to nothing and disappear.  
  
In less than a minute Roger was back, with a copy of Murray's autobiography. It looked like most of the other editions she'd ever seen, except this one looked almost new.  
  
"Here's a little bit of history for you that's not too well known. About a year before she died, Eunice Murray decided to bring out a new edition of her book, but she says she's going to add a new last chapter. She sends it off to the printers herself; she'd made enough Galleons at Quidditch, she could afford to do it. It wasn't much of a press run because the Muggle war had just started and everything was scarce. Well, when the book comes out and the Games and Sports wizards at the Ministry read the new bits, they go into a panic, because Murray didn't let them know. By then she's on her deathbed, so they just wait her out. Then the Ministry tries to buy up and burn every copy. But a few got out, and they're collector's items. You won't believe what I had to pay for this one."  
  
"Roger, why are you telling me all this?"  
  
"Because it's time for you to read it. Because I meant to give you this last Christmas, but, well, I guess being around Fleur addles the noodle. Just think about it, and be well. And let me know if there's ever anything I can do."  
  
"Thanks, Roger. You're ... I'm very ... Thanks." He squeezed her hand, then dashed upstairs.  
  
Cho started to read the epilogue:  
  
"Those of us who live our lives in the eye of the wizarding world may seem to some to have no secrets. Wizards and witches around the town, or around the world, think that they know you on sight. They speak to you like an old friend, or upbraid you for a mistake in a game, as if you'd attended school together. They think that the little they know is all that they need to know.  
  
And yet we all have secrets, things which we never reveal to even our nearest and dearest. I have kept a secret for most of my life, and now is the time to reveal it, although I fear it is too late. I can only pray that someone will read and understand what I am about to say.  
  
On this, the tenth day of October 1941, Sylvia Marlbourne died. She was my secretary, she was my travelling companion, she handled my business affairs. And for decades I have lied to the wizarding world about her, for she was also "my North, my South, my East and West,/My working week and my Sunday rest,/My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song." We met thirty years ago, and became lovers the very night we met, and were never apart until now.  
  
I have cried for her all day, but I don't know why I have been crying. For sorrow, of course, because the one I loved, she who gave my life any meaning at all, is gone from me forever. But also for regret, wishing that things could somehow be different; wishing that I could have back the opportunities I squandered; wishing that I had the courage to tell the world what I am finally telling it here and now.  
  
I have no choice but to carry on and be who I am. Time has now deprived me of my two great loves--Quidditch and Sylvia--and left me here to get by without them. But I will no longer insult Sylvia by burying her memory as well as her body. I will mourn her publicly, as we should have lived publicly, come what may. If I shall lose a friend or a hundred friends by so doing, I care not. I shall remember her all the days I have left before I pass through the Veil to be with her again. Failing to love her in the future, completely and unashamedly, would betray our love in the past, and I cannot do that."  
  
Cho closed the book and clutched it to her chest, weeping openly and saying softly to herself: "God bless you, Roger Davies."  
  
xxx  
  
Cho spent all of the following day in her bed, with the drapes drawn. The other girls tried to speak to her, but she wouldn't answer them. They only heard sobs and whimpers and one loud shriek come from behind the bedcurtains. Her dorm mates brought food to her from the Great Hall. She didn't touch any of it, at least, when they were around. That afternoon, Luna Lovegood knocked on the door.  
  
"Is Cho here?" she asked. Jan pointed to the bed with the closed drapes. "Well, the, er, the Diggorys are about to leave, but they're asking about you."  
  
"No." Cho's voice was muffled by the curtains.  
  
"Are you sure? I mean, they seem sad and all but Missus Diggory looked like she really wanted--"  
  
"I said NO!"  
  
Luna bit her lip and ran down the steps.  
  
xxx  
  
Nobody at Hogwarts saw Cho Chang until the next morning, at breakfast, while Harry was still in the hospital wing. Cho walked into the Great Hall as if she were walking into a torture chamber and trying not to scream. She moved slowly and deliberately, her face as much a mask as she could make it. The conversations at the tables dropped to almost nothing as she walked to the Ravenclaw table, then glanced at the Head Table. She turned on her heel and walked up until she was standing in front of Madam Trelawney.  
  
She stared straight up at the Divinations professor for a minute before she finally spoke. "Why?" she ask wearily. "Why didn't you see it? Why didn't anyone see it?" Madam Trelawny's face burned. Cho turned and ran out of the Great Hall, unable to stand being in the room with so many people staring at her.  
  
"Cho!" Jan was running after her.  
  
"Leave me alone!"  
  
"But I have teh tell yeh!" Jan grabbed Cho's robes, pulling her to a halt. "I'm sorry I didn't tell yeh!"  
  
"Tell me what?"  
  
"About you an' Cedric an' the Glow. That las' day, I was watchin' Cedric in the maze, an' his Glow was so bright it fair hurt me eyes. An' then, when I was landin' the broom, and yer Glow was as bright as his, well, then it just went out. I guess tha's when it happened. To Cedric. Fer what it's worth, he loved yeh right up teh the end."  
  
By now tears were running down both girls' cheeks. They hugged each other in the corridor for a minute. Then Jan spoke: "Can yeh come back teh the Great Hall?"  
  
Cho shook her head. Together they walked back to Ravenclaw.  
  
Nobody saw Cho outside of Ravenclaw House for three days. At that time, she went to Professor Flitwick's office. She didn't come inside, but stayed at the threshold. "I'm making a change in my schedule for next year. I want to take Muggle Studies instead of Divination."  
  
"Ah. May I ask--"  
  
"Because Divination is rubbish. Excuse me." She turned and walked down the corridor.  
  
As that last week of the term went on, both faculty and students began to realize that Hogwarts had lost two students on the night of the Third Task. Cedric Diggory was dead, of course, but Cho Chang--the friendly and popular student, the Ravenclaw Seeker--had gone missing. She might find her way back, but it would be a long and painful journey, and she might not ever return.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 64, wherein a third Hogwarts student also departs  
  
A/N: The lines quoted by Eunice Murray are from W. H. Auden's poem "Funeral Blues", which gained modern fame when it was recited in the movie "Four Weddings and a Funeral". 


	64. The Feast and the Leaving

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
64. The Feast and the Leaving  
  
I shouldn't be here, Cho thought; I shouldn't have come here.  
  
She was in the Great Hall, on the last night of the term, waiting for the Leaving Feast. In the morning, everyone would board the Hogwarts Express for the trip back to London. Tonight should have been a night of fun and memory, of reflection on the past year and anticipation of the summer; tonight should have been the awarding of the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup.  
  
Not this year. There were no cups. Mourning black covered the Great Hall. The students were quieter than usual.  
  
Cho sat among the Ravenclaws, yet felt utterly alone. One student or another had tried to reach out to her during the week since the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but all they did was force Cho to tighten her mask, nod and listen politely, and bury her emotions ever deeper, only to have them come screaming out at night when she was in bed.  
  
Tonight, she found herself sitting between the Ravenclaws on one side, and the Beauxbatons on the other. Little Gabrielle Delacour sat next to her, and once or twice reached over and silently squeezed Cho's hand in her own, as if she understood Cho better than anyone else. Cho smiled at Gabrielle as best she could, while tears rolled down her face.  
  
Dumbledore started the meal by asking everyone to rise, lift their goblets, and salute Cedric Diggory. Cho almost choked trying to say the name, and wondered again why she was there.  
  
Her question was answered almost at once when Dumbledore said: "Cedric Diggory was killed by Lord Voldemort."  
  
Others around the hall cried out, frightened by the mere mention of the name of the Dark Lord. Some clearly refused to believe it; hadn't Harry Potter vanquished He Who Must Not Be Named all those years ago?  
  
But to Cho, the words carried absolute truth, and clarified her next year at Hogwarts.  
  
That's how it was, she thought; that's how it must have been.  
  
She hardly listened to Dumbledore as she considered what her new course of action would be, how she would go about avenging the death of Cedric Diggory. First would be to throw herself next year into Defense Against the Dark Arts, with an intensity previously reserved for Quidditch. After that...  
  
"I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."  
  
The name caught Cho's attention as Dumbledore prepared another toast. He raised his goblet toward Harry at the Griffindor table. The students likewise rose, raised their goblets. Cho tried to speak Harry's name, but it caught in her throat. The goblet held water, but she could barely drink a drop; it tasted of wormwood to her.  
  
The more Dumbledore went on about about unity among wizards, the more uncomfortable Cho became. When he spoke of Cedric again, asking everyone to "remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort," something in Cho's mind screamed NO! Don't remember him because he died! Remember him because he lived! Remember the days in the garden and the night of the Yule Ball! Remember the Seeker, not the corpse!  
  
As soon as the food appeared on the tables, Cho stood and walked out of the Great Hall. Once outside, she ran to the girls' toilet where Moaning Myrtle occupied a stall. Cho fell to her knees in one stall, retching violently, losing the few bites of food she had eaten that day. She then buried her face in her arms, sobbing helplessly.  
  
"STOP THAT!"  
  
Cho raised her head and turned to watch Moaning Myrtle pass through the stall door.  
  
"You've been like this all week, and I thought it was amusing at first, but now you're just an annoyance. You're not the only one who lost something when Cedric died, you know. I had my moments, watching him disrobe in the prefect's bath. He really was a fine looking specimen." Myrtle sighed, and came as close as she ever did to smiling wistfully. "But that's all done," she suddenly snapped at Cho, as if it were her fault he was dead. "Now he's gone, and neither of us can have him!"  
  
"Have? What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean that I was hoping that his ghost would hang about Hogwarts for a while. Have a little fun with him on my terms. But, no; his parents have to take him back home! It isn't fair!"  
  
This was worse than an insult to Cedric. Cho got to her feet, walked right through Myrtle and out of the stall.  
  
"How rude!" came the voice behind her as Cho stepped out of the toilet. The first thing she saw in the corridor was Draco Malfoy, leaning against the wall, arms folded, smirking.  
  
"Not having one of your better days, are you? It's to be expected, after all, falling into your own trap."  
  
She never liked talking to Draco, and didn't want to talk to him now, but his statement made her ask, "What trap?"  
  
"Don't play the innocent. All this year and last the whole school watched Harry Potter practically trip over his own tongue following you around. We could all see he liked you, and I suspect you liked him too." Cho didn't say anything. "Then came the Ball, and suddenly that oaf Diggory looked a lot better: more money, Ministry connections, a proper old wizarding family."  
  
"It wasn't like that..." she started feebly; Draco just went on.  
  
"And now he's out of the picture and you're wondering if Potter will have you back." Cho's breath caught; it's exactly what she didn't want to think all week, but a thought which had forced itself into her mind when Dumbledore toasted Harry. "I rather doubt it. I mean, you threw him over for the Hufflepuff; he can hardly feel good about being second choice. He hated seeing you two together, and I don't think he'll forgive and forget anytime soon. But that's what happens when you try to keep two boys going at the same time. It's simple arithmancy: three take away one leaves nothing."  
  
Whether or not he'd planned it, Draco's insults to Cho had never hit so close to the bone. With her tears starting again, all she could do was say to Draco, in a clipped whisper, "May God damn your soul to Hell, Draco Malfoy, if it isn't there already." Then she ran toward Ravenclaw.  
  
Draco didn't care. He'd made Cho Chang cry. He'd finally gotten back at the Ravenclaw Seeker.  
  
He'd had a good day.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho made her way up the steps. The dinner was still going on. The dormitory would be empty now, and she wanted the solitude. Especially now, after the nightmare this day was turning into, what with the banquet and what Draco had said about her and Harry...  
  
The dorm wasn't empty. Elizabeth Foggly was throwing her belongings into her trunk.  
  
"Packing for tomorrow?" Cho asked mechanically.  
  
"No; for now. I'm leaving Hogwarts now and never coming back."  
  
Cho was stunned by the announcement. "Will I ever see you again?"  
  
"Cho, I hope not. Because if we ever meet again, one of us is going to have to die."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
For an answer, Libby rolled up the left sleeve of her robe, showing Cho the brand: the skull with the snake slithering out of its mouth.  
  
Cho couldn't speak at first; she was even afraid that she might faint again. "But you--when did--"  
  
"After our second year here. When I went home for the summer, my parents told me everything; that they'd joined Voldemort the first time, but nobody ever suspected them. And of course, after classes with Professor Quirrell, with Voldemort so close by, it didn't take much to convince me."  
  
"Where will you go?"  
  
"Somewhere with my parents. That's all I know, and if I knew more, I still wouldn't tell you."  
  
A pit seemed to open up in Cho's stomach: "Then your parents were there when Cedric ..."  
  
Libby nodded. "They were there."   
  
For the first time since the Tournament, she spoke the words: "What happened?"  
  
"Cho, we've just heard Dumbledore reciting a lot of sanctimonious cliches about Cedric. If you really want the truth, I'll tell you, because it won't make a bit of difference. Cedric showed up by mistake; the Portkey was supposed to bring Harry Potter, and ONLY Harry Potter, to Lord Voldemort. Cedric Diggory was a mistake, and Lord Voldemort got rid of him. He told his assistant to 'Get rid of the spare'; that's all Cedric would have been anyway. Someone to bring Lord Voldemort back into the world if Harry Potter didn't work out."  
  
Get rid of the spare.  
  
"Cho, listen to me. I know how much this must hurt you, and believe me, it was never my idea to hurt you. But you have to understand: this is the kind of universe we live in. By ourselves we're nothing. You and Cedric and all your Quidditch friends play a few games, and that's all the mark you've left on the world. But the Dark Lord has a great vision of what the world is to become, not just the wizarding world, and he has the power now to make it happen. So I've decided to be with him, and with my parents, when it happens.  
  
"I probably shouldn't ask this, but I will. Come with me, Cho."  
  
This exchange had left Cho sitting on the edge of her bed, feeling quite numb. But now she was roused enough so that Libby could hear the edge in her voice: "Never."  
  
"Face it, Cho, you're on the losing side. Dumbledore is too old, and Harry Potter is too young. And you must realize that they're on the top of Voldemort's 'List of Things to Do.' It may take a month or two; it may take a year or two; but, believe me, they will go the way of Cedric Diggory."  
  
"No. You caught Cedric by surprise. It won't happen that way with Harry."  
  
"It won't? Cho, they were there together. Neither one had the chance to lift a finger."  
  
It was strange to hear from a Death Eater that Harry Potter didn't have anything to do with Cedric's death, but Cho found this news reassuring. "Do you intend to kill me now, Libby?"  
  
Libby had been throwing more of her belongings into the trunk. Now she turned to face Cho, wand at the ready. "I promised myself I wouldn't harm any of us here. But if I have to, I'll kill you."  
  
The words of Cho's father reushed back to her brain: "Kill them before they kill you!" he had shouted on the night of the World Quidditch Cup. Cho stood up, pulled her wand out of her robes, then let it fall onto her bed. "Do what you must."  
  
"Cho, please. Pick up the wand; threaten me with it. That's the only way I can attack you. It has to be self-defense."  
  
"Then you know I've never been a threat to you."   
  
"Cho, please reconsider."  
  
"Only if you'll reconsider. You don't have to go to them."  
  
"Yes I do. But you can't understand that."  
  
"I understand threats; I know you just threatened me. But I don't have to live by them, and neither do you."  
  
"It's not just threats. It's my parents; don't you understand that?"  
  
"Maybe I don't. I defied my parents when I told them I..." Cho's voice broke only slightly. "I was going to marry Cedric."  
  
"You're different, Cho. You, you found someone to love. I don't love anyone that way; not Dumbledore, not Harry Potter."  
  
"You don't love the Dark Lord either, do you?"  
  
Libby's voice was now barely a whisper. "You're right. I'm afraid of him. But I've seen him; I've heard him. And fear is a very sensible thing to feel around him." She sighed, half-smiling. "And you know us Ravenclaws; we're nothing if not sensible."  
  
"Then stay here in Ravenclaw. Stay through the summer. Dumbledore and the teachers can protect you."  
  
"I ... can't."  
  
Cho heard steps on the stair. She turned her head for a second to look at the door. When she looked back, Libby was at the open window, astride her broom, tears in her eyes.  
  
"Good luck to you, Cho Chang; the best luck would be if we never meet again."  
  
Libby pointed her wand at her trunk: "Locomotor!" She was through the window. Cho ran to catch her, but knew she couldn't do it. She stood at the open window, watching Elizabeth Foggly and her trunk disappear toward the north.  
  
xxx  
  
All during the train ride back to London, Cho was bothered by two thoughts: Harry and her mother.  
  
Would Harry hate Cho, as Malfoy had said? That could wait until September. Maybe by then she'd be better able to control her emotions. Several times a day, every day since the Third Task, some memory of Cedric would come unbidden, causing her to burst into tears. They had shared so many goods times; all of them now gone forever.  
  
As for her mother, Cho knew she still had a slight reprieve. Her father always dropped her off at King's Cross or picked her up, and it would be night in Diagon Alley when she got home and faced her mother, from whom she hadn't heard a word since the O.W.L.s. Her last own home must have upset her mother more than she thought.  
  
However, when Cho walked through the barrier, Mrs. Lotus Chang stood in King's Cross, her gaze fixed on the portal between tracks 9 and 10, as if Cho might try to slip past her. When Cho appeared, with her luggage and an empty cage (Quan Yin having been sent home the night before), she simply stood still for a minute, looking for some sort of clue from her mother of what would happen next.  
  
What happened next was something she never expected. Lotus led Cho toward the wall, away from the middle of the corridor, gently took her daughter's face in her hands and sighed.  
  
"Dear, dear Cho," she said sorrowfully, "I knew that someday the world would break your heart; it breaks all our hearts sooner or later. I just didn't expect it to be like this. Most times, if you have an argument, and you have them even with someone you love, you can get back together if you want, work it out if you want. But this--"  
  
There were times that Cho wanted nothing else in life than to see this: her mother in pain, nearly in tears. But she wasn't sorrowing over her own life, her own marriage, her own failure to be the witch she wanted to be; it was Cho's heartbreak that had broken her mother's heart.  
  
Cho had been holding herself in all day, letting a few tears tell everyone all that they needed to know. No more; in the middle of King's Cross, she threw herself at her mother, howling out her hurt and desolation. Lotus stroked Cho's raven hair, speaking softly in Mandarin.  
  
Cho's mother happened to look up only once-just in time to see Harry Potter come through the barrier, pushing his luggage and his owl on a cart. He was surrounded by a group of gwailo, most of them with bright red hair. She saw Harry look at Cho; saw the look on his face--a look of pain and desolation and a sorrow fully as deep as Cho's.  
  
Lotus had heard the rumours, read the Daily Prophet, read and reread her daughter's letters (for-unknown to Cho-she had saved them all, from the very first day of school) and came to one conclusion: the rumours were wrong. Ha Li Bo Te could not possibly have killed Cedric Diggory.  
  
As Mrs. Chang watched, Harry exchanged words with the others, and one girl--not the one with red hair--kissed Harry on the cheek. She resolved to speak of this with Cho over the summer, as she wished to speak with her daughter of so many things...  
  
xxx  
  
to be concluded by an Epilogue, in which Cho Chang says goodbye to Cedric Diggory.  
  
A/N: I have decided to end "Or Die Trying" at this point for the time being. "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" finally started filling in blanks in the character of Cho Chang, and I was gratified to find that I was correct in reading Rowling and seeing that Cho was interested in Harry at least as long as he was interested in her. I was further gratified to find that Cho, as depicted in "Phoenix", did not stray far from my conception of her in this fic, even if it did cause some readers to lose interest in or even revile her. To go back now, though, and bring the story into compliance with the new Canon, I would have to tweak more than just her favorite Quidditch team (from Puddlemere United to Tutshill). I'd have to lose a couple of my OC classmates to substitute some of Rowling's wonderful creations. I couldn't resist inserting Luna Lovegood once I saw who she was, and Marietta Edgecombe would be an interesting character to work with. But all of this will have to wait. For now, I thank you for all your comments and for sticking with the story this far, and ask you to take the last step, along with Cho Chang, into the cemetery of Ottery St. Catchpole... 


	65. Epilogue

OR DIE TRYING: THE STORY OF CHO CHANG  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
65. Epilogue  
  
On her first morning back in Diagon Alley, Cho's parents were up early. They knew what had happened at Hogwarts, and not just through the Daily Prophet, but through owls and conversations with other parents and the Board of Governors and the Ministry. The more they asked, it seemed, the muddier the picture grew; the advice from Lucius Malfoy to "avoid Dumbledore for the present, because things could take an ugly turn" wasn't helpful at all. But their first concern wasn't Hogwarts anyway; it was the well-being of their daughter, their only child.  
  
They were both in the kitchen preparing breakfast--a rarity in itself--when they heard a door slam and the quick thumping of Cho running down the steps. They went into the parlour just in time to see Cho, in full Hogwarts robes, standing before the hearth, a fistful of Floo powder at the ready.  
  
They barely had time to call her name before she threw the powder into the grate. A bright green flame blazed up, and as Cho stepped into it, she shouted, "THE FAWCETT FAMILY!"  
  
She was gone.  
  
xxx  
  
Ottery St. Catchpole is a small English village, but not so small that the Fawcetts could afford to let their guard down. They had Muggles living on either side, and it took almost every bit of their magic to keep up the illusion that they were no different. So it was with looks of alarm that, when Cho stepped out of the Fawcett family hearth, the family members rushed to the room.  
  
"Cho!" Sally exclaimed. "How nice to see you!" Then she remembered exactly why Cho was there, and her voice dropped. "Sorry, I just meant, er, have you met my parents?"  
  
Cho gave them a nod that was far from her usually polite manner, then turned back to Sally. "Where?"  
  
"What? Ah. Down the path just outside the door; turn left and walk about a mile. You'll see it."  
  
"Do you know if--if his parents--"  
  
Sally's father spoke up. Sally had told her parents all that she knew about Cho and Cedric the night before. "They visit his grave every day, but in the late afternoon. And they live on the other side of the churchyard, if you want to go to their house--"  
  
"If I wanted that," Cho interrupted, "I wouldn't have had to come here." She suddenly caught herself and bowed. "Sorry, that was very rude. I'm sorry to have disturbed you." The tears were starting again. She turned toward the front door.  
  
"Cho, wait!" Sally grabbed at Cho's sleeve. "Your robes! I mean, you can't just walk about like that."  
  
Cho pulled free of Sally's grip, opened the front door, then turned to look sadly at Sally. "But he's never seen me without robes. How will he know me?" Without another word she strode briskly out of the house and down the path.  
  
"Poor thing," Mrs. Fawcett said, watching Cho walk down the path, "losing a loved one at that age."  
  
"Yes," her husband sighed, putting his arm around his wife's waist and drawing her to him, "and under such awful circumstances."  
  
Awful is right, thought Sally, who had grown up with Cedric and the children of the other wizarding families near Ottery St. Catchpole. Guess they never even had the chance for a quick shag.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho didn't meet a soul as she walked through the Devonshire countryside. After a few minutes, she saw the old churchyard on her left. It was a small churchyard, and the newest grave was easy to find. Cho walked up to it and knelt before the simple headstone. She grabbed the top of the stone with both hands, resting her forehead on the cool surface.  
  
--Can you hear me, Cedric?  
  
Ni hao, Cho Li.  
  
--Very good; you got the inflection right that time.  
  
Well, I've had lots of time to practice.  
  
--Cedric, I love you. You have to believe that I love you.  
  
Of course I believe it.  
  
--And I'm so sorry about yelling at you in the garden.  
  
No, I'm the one who should apologize. You were right, Cho Li. I should have told my dad off when I had the chance.  
  
--But the garden. Madam Sprout showed me what happened.  
  
That wasn't to do with you. I wanted to beat myself up, and lashing out at the garden was the next closest thing. I'm just sorry you thought I hated you. I never did.  
  
--But the Task...  
  
The Task was easy-peasy. Apart from Hagrid's Skrewt and the acromantula.  
  
--Acro...  
  
Acromantula; the overgrown spider. Clipped Harry rather badly. I guess he got me back all right. Harry, I mean.  
  
--Yes, he did.  
  
There was a long pause, as if each was waiting for the other.  
  
--Ced, I... What do I do now?  
  
You already know, Cho Li. Do what you were going to do anyway. Go back to Hogwarts, be the Ravenclaw Seeker.  
  
--That's not what I mean.  
  
I know.  
  
--Well?  
  
Cho Li, do you really need my permission?  
  
--I don't know. All I do is remember being with you. I can't stop myself.  
  
Don't try to stop. It's those little bits of memory from you and my parents and the others at Hogwarts that still keep me alive, so to speak.  
  
--I wish I could just stay here.  
  
It would get rather dull. And what if it rains?  
  
--Cedric Diggory, you're the only one I ever loved and you've been killed by You Know Who! Why are you making jokes about it?  
  
Because I have a right to make jokes about myself, dead or alive. Because I don't want you to remember me only with tears. And because there's still a lot in life you can live before you go through the veil.  
  
--I've never heard it put that way before.  
  
Cho Li, have you ever known me to say anything poetical? There really is a veil; I've seen it.  
  
--You mean a barrier between life and death?  
  
Yes, and I probably shouldn't have even mentioned it to you. Don't go looking for it, Cho Li, because, even if you do find it, you won't find the Hufflepuff Seeker or the Hogwarts Champion. That person's under this stone.  
  
--What will I find behind the veil?  
  
I dunno. We all find different things, I guess.  
  
--This is all well and good, Ced, except for one small problem. I still love you.  
  
And I love you. We just can't do anything about it right now.  
  
--If I go back to Hogwarts, I won't be able to stand it. I'll remember everything. It's only been a week and already I see or hear things that remind me of us and I start crying.  
  
It'd be strange if you didn't. You'll be all right, Cho Li; I'm sure your friends will understand.  
  
--Friends. Well. Actually, that's something else I've been thinking about.  
  
Meaning?  
  
--I shouldn't even be thinking this...  
  
You're seeing another boy already?  
  
--NO!  
  
It was a joke, Cho Li.  
  
--But ... but someday it may not be.  
  
Tell me honestly: were you in love with me before the Yule Ball?  
  
--Honestly? No.  
  
Then maybe I was a mistake in your life. Maybe, no matter how much I loved you, you were meant for someone else.  
  
--But I DID love you!  
  
I know. You're going to carry that love with you. I'm sorry about that, because it will make you sad. But you won't feel so sad in time.  
  
--How much time?  
  
I wish I could tell you.  
  
--Ced, the truth is, there is another boy; someone I've liked for a long time.  
  
Then talk to him, Cho Li. Please don't let me stop you.  
  
--The thing is, Ced... it's Harry. Harry Potter.  
  
Ah. Well. That's a relief. The way you were going on, I was afraid you were talking about Malfoy or someone like that.  
  
--You don't mind?  
  
It's not up to me, is it? Follow your heart, Chang Cho Li.  
  
--But my heart keeps reminding me of you.  
  
That's really not a good idea.  
  
--I can't stop myself thinking of you. And I don't think I want to stop. Not just yet.  
  
You always were headstrong. Remember me if you want, then. Just give Harry a fair chance. From what I know of him, he's not like most wizards his age. He could turn out to be something more than just The Boy Who Lived. Although Merlin knows that's enough for anyone.  
  
--Thank you, Ced.  
  
Goodbye, Cho Li.  
  
Cho realized that, impossible as she would have thought it, there really was nothing else to say. She waited a minute, then reached into the pocket of her robes, pulled out a white card and laid it on the grave. She rose, turned and walked back down the path to the Fawcetts, not knowing if she'd been there for five minutes or an hour.  
  
xxx  
  
Later that day, Amos and Celia Diggory slowly and sadly made their way to the cemetery, as they had every day since they buried their son. Celia noticed the card, picked it up, and gasped loudly. She handed the card to her husband, her hand shaking.  
  
Amos Diggory glanced at the card, then stared in surprise. "But--who else could have known?" His wife shook her head, as if to say that she had no idea.  
  
Written on the card, in very careful penmanship, was:  
  
But since it falls unto my lot  
  
That I should rise and you should not  
  
I lift my glass and softly call  
  
Good night, and joy be with you all  
  
END  
  
xxx  
  
A/N: Since I posted the previous chapter and announced that this fic would probably end, the resulting comments have been surprising, almost overwhelming and very gratifying. It may take a little while to see my way past the difficulties, but JKRowling has not yet ended the story. Perhaps I really do need to consider, after at least a rereading of "Order of the Phoenix", whether to resume, and, if so, how. In any case, you'll know about it. 


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